


moving towards the moon

by peculiarblue



Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 21:17:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 50,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7590772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peculiarblue/pseuds/peculiarblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>all she knew was that she was most definitely stuck. but she's beginning to learn that maybe with the right people, your "stuck" could become a very perfect "still". </p><p>(in which the art thing isn't working out for maya so she tries to become an art teacher and guess what cowboy she gets stuck student teaching with?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	moving towards the moon

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, friends! Just letting you know you are in for a long one with this, and I may be biased, but I think it’s worth it. I didn’t have the heart to break it up. I’m obsessed with this. I have never loved anything I’ve ever written more than I love this. Super Maya-centric. Basically a Maya fic, with Lucaya as the pairing. I live for the idea that Maya becomes an art teacher and this is my version of it. Compete AU—they’re like 26ish in my head, a few years out of college, and Lucas and Zay don’t know the trio prior to when they meet in my story. Also I know like 300 of you are going to yell at me bc I made Lucas have blue eyes and Maya have green. I don’t know what happened, but that’s what I wrote and it sounded pretty (you’ll see the part) so I went with it for the rest of the story. Just pretend for me, thanks. :) It has been a pleasure writing this, and I hope you all like it as much as I do. Please feel free to send me any suggestions because I want to keep writing for gmw but I’ve been so focused on this one plot that I’m lost as to where I should go next (any pairing, even if they’re not that way in this story, I know we all love riarkle but in this one I have riley with zay because I think they’re adorable asdjdkshks;a sorry if u hate it it’s minor). Thanks for the love, good luck with this novel I’ve written, enjoy the ride. xoxo katie :)

///

 

She’s stuck.

 

Her life is a mess. She’s got nothing left out there for her and her hopes and dreams are in shambles and it takes everything inside her not to just _collapse_ under the weight of it all. Because that’s how shitty things are going right about now—how they’ve _been_ going for a while, but only now to a more extreme sense of the word. This sucks, her life is a mess, and she’s stuck.

 

Even on the brief occasion that she thinks she’s not stuck, it’s only to move backwards. One or two steps. And then she’s stuck there.

 

School was a bust, and if anything in the world was a bigger lie than school itself, she had yet to find it. Because they said if you made it through school, you’d make it. You work hard, day in and day out and you’d get a diploma, a few more years, a degree. _And you’d be successful_. It doesn’t work like that, she found out, the hard way. Because she _did_ the whole school thing, college and all. And even though she hated it, she grinned through it, and had a piece of paper and mounds of student loans to prove it.

 

Happy. She had been so incredibly happy because if she thought she was an artist before, she certainly had to be one now, and everyone had to know she was an artist too, because she did what everyone told her she had to do to make it somewhere and she went and got an education for it. She _has_ to be successful now.

 

But she’s not. It was doomed from the start, she supposed, hanging everything she had on what other people told her she needed. She was silly to think being an art major would make her an artist—no one can _make_ you an artist. And when she tells Riley this, of course she has something to say about it (“They’re helping you _find_ the artist inside of you, Maya”).

 

As far as Maya was concerned, she’d _found_ the artists inside of her years ago, like middle school years ago. But no one else believed her, no one else thought that was possible. Hell, _she_ wouldn’t have thought it was possible. But after 4 years of college art classes and no success yet to show for it, she thought about things. Yes, she, Maya Hart, was thinking. And thinking helped her realize that as far as school goes, it was all a waste of time and energy (and money she didn’t have).

 

3 years out of college and she had painted 67 canvases. She sold 0.

 

No one except for Riley saw her pieces, and that was only because she lived with the girl.

 

“Keep painting, Maya!” “This one’s a winner.” “I see this one in a coffee shop somewhere, don’t you? Or maybe a classy businesswoman’s penthouse!” Riley told her this a million times, every day when she came home with another canvas and a new paintbrush for her. Something new everyday, a different color, bigger brush size, and a new motivational saying to go along with it, with just enough trademark Riley to convince Maya to go for it again. And it would happen all over again, each time telling her _this one_ would be _the one_ and that the two of them should get ready to hang it soon—but the only place it ever hung was stacked with the others in the spare closet.

 

Odd jobs for three whole years. 67 paintings. She was at her breaking point. She couldn’t sugar coat it—life sucked. She came home from her late-night Tuesday shift at the upscale steakhouse that her and Riley used to sneak into with a wad of cash from tips in her hands and glassy tears in her eyes. She swore to her mom she’d do better, she’d make it. She went to _school_ for this.

 

But it just doesn’t work like that.

 

She cried into Riley’s shoulder for close to an hour, using big, mean, words she never liked to use around Riley before, and eventually just mumbling incoherent noises because she had nothing left.

 

She was stuck.

 

Riley stroked her hair and hushed soft coos and made her tea and cried too because “best friends don’t let their best friends cry alone”. And then she talked to her about it, because with Riley, we never left anything just as it was. Nothing could ever just be bad, or sucky, or the worst ever. We had to fix it. And Riley _swore_ to Maya that the best way to fix all problems was to go back to where they started.

 

Did she think Maya would take it literally? Probably not. But did she? Very much so.

 

Maya went back to school. Classes a few times a week in the mornings at Manhattan Community College to become a teacher. Crazy. Insane. She had literally lost it. But if no one was going to buy her paintings then she should at least try to find a job where they’d pay her to paint them.

 

It was easy at first. Unbearable, yes, but still easy. She finished all the hard stuff in the four years she finished three years ago. So she sat in classes at 7 am and wrote parts of papers on the backs of napkins in the bathroom on a shift at the restaurant and Riley packed her a new paintbrush each day.

 

Things weren’t going better, she wouldn’t trick herself into that so easily again, but at least she was stuck someplace where she was actually _doing_ something other than refilling drinks and crying onto unfinished canvasses. A mediocre kind of stuck.

 

Riley had given her a purple paintbrush the day she went into class to get her student teaching assignment. It was long, fine tip, and bright purple. Maya had it in her back pocket when she went to the front of the lecture hall to get her folder of information from the professor. She almost took the paintbrush out to stab someone after she read where she was going (but she didn’t, of course, she didn’t).

 

**_Maya Hart-_ ** _John Quincy Adams Middle School, Mr. Lucas Friar, 7 th grade, History_

She dropped the folder and demanded a new one. Two steps back. Stuck.

 

She was an art major, had a degree to show for it, and they gave her HISTORY??? The professor explained that they had little to no control over where they were sent, and it really didn’t matter the subject she had. Of course it mattered, she was an art major, she was going to become an art teacher, she is an _artist_. But the professor explained once again, that this was student teaching observation—emphasis on the _observation._ Before you can help teach a class, you’re supposed to be immersed into a classroom setting where you can observe and learn things you can’t in a college lecture hall.

 

Made sense to Riley, didn’t to Maya. Riley put things logically, basically everything the professor had already told her, and Maya had to accept it (but she didn’t, of course, she didn’t).

 

The next morning, she was on the subway like she had done countless times when she was 14, going to seventh grade. Instead, this time, she only had a purple paintbrush to fill Riley’s usual spot next to her and she was more than ten years older.

 

She barely stopped to smile at the secretary who gave her a pass, a nice permanent one instead of those stickers she used to get when she would visit Riley’s dad, and barely stopped to laugh when the principal recognized her (“The troublemaker blonde, friends with the wonderful other one- Matthews’ kid?”) _._ She wasn’t happy to be back. She wasn’t happy to watch a history class for 7 hours a day for the next 4 weeks. The world could keep spinning, but this was where she was stuck. This was not the time to test Maya Hart.

 

 But then…

 

“Pop Quiz! Everyone take out a piece of paper.” The cowboy at the front of the room, (very visibly a cowboy, even if Maya had only as much heard him say 2 words since walking in and sitting in the back of the classroom) said to his class of bright eyed but still too-cool-for-this seventh graders and the only one who moaned was Maya herself. Was there something she was missing, weren’t pop quizzes the apocalypse of all classroom settings?

Kids chattered as they opened notebooks with names scribbled on the fronts and backs and Mr. Friar erased the board. Maya definitely missed something. Yes, she was 20 minutes late, so no, she didn’t have time to introduce herself to the man she’d be “observing” everyday (and didn’t get to properly call him out for being a Huckleberry yet,) but she assumed she’d still be fine for the remainder of the period. Apparently not.

 

She was thoroughly confused, as she most always was in school, but a different kind. Because now, as an educated adult with a diploma and a degree and stress wrinkles between her eyebrows, she most certainly should not feel as left out as she is right now. She could ask, but she’s not going to. Riley was right about being late, Maya just never thought that would apply to her, the queen of lateness.

 

The kids move their desks around, making little groups, Mr. Friar is helping them arrange themselves (“No, Jack, you were over there last time.” “Can I trust the two of you together after—you know what, I don’t even care enough.” “Don’t pull out the puppy dog eyes with me, Kelly, oh, here we go.”) And it’s amusing, she’ll never admit it, to see them talk back to him as if he’s a wise older brother, more friend, less teacher. She kinda likes it. But not enough to still want to be there.

 

When the kids are all settled, the cowboy is writing up on the board, **‘The Moon’**.

 

“Alright, you know the drill. 15 minutes and then we talk. I have a good feeling about this one—no Brandon we’re not taking a field trip there, don’t even try it.” He says to the class, and they all begin immediately, heads huddled together and scribbling on their papers furiously (except for the boy Maya assumes is Brandon, he looks a little defeated).

 

With the class at work and busy for the next 15 minutes, Maya assumes he’ll come over and explain what’s happening in here to her, maybe introduce himself, tell her he can see the artist _oozing_ out of her, like he can feel it in her aura and will demand she go student observe in the art room instead (but he doesn’t, of course, he doesn’t). He just looks at her, sitting in the back corner of the room as he sits at his big comfy teacher’s desk and tips his imaginary cowboy hat as he gives her a wink.

 

Definitely stuck now.

 

She can’t even think of a way to respond, causing her anger to literally skyrocket out of her. She didn’t know she could get angrier than she already was, but what the hell, she was now. He got out of his seat and started talking to a group of boys in the front corner, picking up a paper they made into a paper airplane, and he mumbles “A rocket?” and shoots it back towards Maya. One of the boys asks, “Are you going to tell us who that is, Mr. Friar?” He smiles at them and says back, “When I figure that out, you’ll be the first to know.”

 

When the fifteen minutes is up, there are about 10 minutes left of the class, and Maya hopes she can make it through. She downed her coffee in record time and really has to pee but she needs to, like _really needs to_ know what the heck just went on in here for the past 20 minutes she endured this class so she’s going to hold it.

 

A few girls sitting in the back near Maya are up first. They run to the front of the classroom and hold up their papers, that, when put together, make the phases of the moon in all different colors. Maya wants to like the yellow one, because that’s her favorite color and she likes how it almost looks like the sun in the middle of all these moons and she _wants_ to like it. But she can’t, of course, because she’s still angry and confused and angry and angry (she’s angry, did you know?). The boys in the front corner do a dramatic reading of a rocket liftoff that has the class in hysterics. A boy and a girl wrote a poem about the moon. Another group talks about moons around other planets. Then 2 girls and a boy, (easily, in Maya’s eyes, a next generation version of her and Riley and their best friend Farkle) are up last, and they can’t seem to make up their mind about what they want to say about the moon, but the class is loving it. They’re telling three different stories about the moon, one strictly scientific and one almost dream-like and the other about aliens. The teacher won’t stop smiling, as if he _knows_ where this is going, like it’s going to go somewhere good because it always does, and Maya wants to believe that too.

 

And the class seems to know it as well because they all go quiet when the one that looks like the Riley of the group stops them to talk about the first landing on the moon. She tells it in vivid detail, not all the facts, but all the good stuff, the stuff you want to know and what Maya realizes, is what you _need_ to know. How the United States did the impossible, how we made it to _the moon_. Now science guy is chiming in, saying, forget the facts—that’s not what its about. Alien girl says at least now we can look for them. We made it.

 

 Dumb cowboy is onto something with this.

 

“You want to know how the moon affects us? You just told me. Because those men made it to the moon, now we can all make it to our own moons. You give me the phases in rainbows and rockets blasting off. You give me 3 friends on a mission,” he looks over to the group in the front of the room and smiles. He then erases part of what’s written on the board and writes something else. Maya wants to gasp at how well he’s making this unfold (Mr. Matthews, is that you?).

 

**‘Your Moon’**

 

“Not _the_ moon, but _your_ moon. You get there however you can.” Her surveys the room, proud of what he’s done. She wants to be proud too, and watches as the whole class huddles in the center, their heads nearly touching, hands squeezed in the middle as they count, “3, 2, 1, BLASTOFF!” and she almost considers joining in with their infectious laughter that radiates off the walls (but she doesn’t, of course, she doesn’t).

 

The bell rings, and desks are rearranged and the kids hurry out, chattering excitedly, all calling goodbye to their beloved History teacher. With the room finally empty, Maya decides she should probably go for it. No way in hell she’s going to spend the rest of her time here this confused—she wants answers and she wants them now. She walks up to Mr. Friar, Lucas, if she remembers correctly (but she’ll stick with cowboy for now), and places the paper airplane he shot at her before on his desk.

 

She wants to shoot back some really sarcastic, bordering on mean comment, her signature way of meeting people and making friends (not really useful for the latter) but before she can even get a breath in he says to her, “So what’s on _your_ moon, Miss—”

 

“Hart. Uh, Maya… Hart,” she chokes out. He waits for her to answer (but she doesn’t, of course, she doesn’t).

 

“If you’re gonna sit in my class, you’re gonna take the pop quiz.” And he waits for her again.

 

Maya shifts her weight on her feet and pushes her hair behind her, nervously. When she’s composed enough in her confused and angry (remember, _very angry_ ) state where she feels small and not at all in control, she finds a comment that sounds much more like her to shoot back:

 

“Honestly, right now, I’d just like to move to the moon.”

 

“That’s pretty major. All the way to the moon?”

 

“All the way. Blissfully alone and away from—”

 

“All of this?” He finishes for her, and twirls his finger in a circle.

 

“For someone who made a _choice_ to come back here, you sound like you’d like to move there too.”

 

“If I’m correct, and please, do correct me if I’m wrong—you seem like you’d enjoy that very much,” he said with a smirk and she huffed. How did he manage to know— “but you came back here too.” He reached a hand out for her folder, which she gave him, and he absently thumbed through it, taking the few papers she was supposed to give to him and handing the folder back.

 

“It’s a lot more complicated than that, Huckleberry.” Oh shit. Shitshitshitshitfuck. It slipped. It really did. She promised Riley she’d hold her tongue, really, reallyreally _really_ (but she didn’t, of course, she didn’t).

 

He laughed. Like a real, honest laugh and she wanted to stay mad because this whole thing was a disaster and a half and she was angry about it. (Though when she sees that smirk on the right corner of his mouth she’s forgetting less and less why.)

 

“Well, 4 weeks is quite some time, Miss Hart, so whenever you wanna tell me about it, I’ll be here. I keep a lasso in the closet if there’s anyone I need to tie up for you.”

 

Alright, powers that be, if this is how you want to play, Maya Hart’s a player. (Or so she thinks.)

 

Because just as she’s going to roll the dice and move back to her side of the board, because ohmygod she has _such a good_ comeback for that, she catches his eyes.

 

So bright blue, swimmingly deep, mesmerizing blue, if she looks too long she swears she’ll drown, but she can’t stop because why, why do they not make a paint this color, she needs to paint with something so _blue,_ she doubts they could make one to do it justice, she’d be lying if she said there weren’t specks of gold in them, practically illuminating the brilliance of the blue and she’s sure they could light up the entire world and its entirely way too early to be lost in someone’s eyes but screw it she’s lost in them now, and this is not what Maya Hart does, she just doesn’t, she’s an artist and her life sucks and she can tell you maybe 3 good things about her life.

 

But life continues. He continues.

 

“In the meantime, moving to the moon isn’t going to work out for you. Trust me, I’ve tried,” he says to her. “Try moving _towards_ it _,_ instead.” She’s stuck. He blinks. 

 

“Ready for round two, Miss Hart?” He walks towards the door like _that_ didn’t just happen and greets the next set of kids filing into his classroom. As the bells rings, she finds her way back into the seat in the back corner of the room, hoping maybe, if she tries hard enough, or is at least present for the full class, she’ll be less confused than she is now.

 

But when he erases the board and starts the class with a “Pop Quiz!” she doubts it, she really does.

 

Because, let’s face it, things just don’t go the way that Maya Hart hopes they will.

 

///

 

Maya was thankful her first day had been a Friday, so that she had 2 and a half whole days to complain about it.

 

“This has been the worst day in all of my existence on the planet.”

 

“It’s not, it wasn’t, she’s exaggerating, really, she’s fine, you’re fine.” Riley rapidly darts her head back and forth between Maya and Farkle as she spews out her reassurances, sitting down in their booth (might as well have had a sign above it to claim it) in their favorite pizza place around the corner from their apartment that night. “Maya, please sit down, you’re glaring and it’s making me nervous.”

 

Maya dropped her bag on the seat with a loud huff and an eye roll and slid in next to her. “Should I even ask?” Farkle questioned, squinting, as if Maya might chuck her menu at him (but she didn’t, of course, she didn’t).

 

“Please don’t—” Riley started just as Maya screeched over her, “Oh PLEASE do. Where shall I begin?” She hung her head back and laughed for just a moment, as if convincing herself that the day had all been just a strange joke. But when her eyes settled back on Farkle, it clearly wasn’t.

 

“I have been in love with art since I was a little girl. It’s always been my favorite thing, just below the two of you and coffee. So I had the genius idea to make art my life. I went to stupid art school college and got a stupid degree and what good did it do me? Absolutely none, because it turns out I’m a shitty artist—don’t even say a word Riley—because I love what I make and what I do, but reality is, the rest of the world doesn’t. But then I have this other brilliant idea. A really good one because I’m sick and tired of taking orders from stupid people in that stupid restaurant—okay Jessica could you maybe come back for our drink order in a second, I’M IN THE MIDDLE OF LOSING MY—thank god she’s gone. Where was I… right—the idea. I’m going to get paid for making things that I love that other people don’t. Kids always like things, and even if they don’t, as their teacher they have to pretend. So I’m going to do it. I go back to stupid school and do more stupid learning—keep your stupid smart brain out of this Farkle—and I’m going to be an art teacher. And I’m the wishy-washiest person on this earth, I’ve found out, because after all the fucking shit I’ve been through in my life, I’m broke and I have 1 person in my family and I dress like a laundry hamper and I probably can’t pay for the pizza tonight but I went back to stupid school and I let myself stop thinking life sucked. I can’t keep a side. I hate life and then I think life’s kinda okay, you know? But it’s not, because life doesn’t care if I wanna make art or if I wanna do it with little 5 year olds who’ll still probably like me. Because I get assigned to student-freaking-observe with the cowboy of all cowboys in middle school for a HISTORY class.” Maya sighs and drops her head into her hands on the table. “I want pizza, can we just get some pizza?”

 

“That was. Wow. Riles, is she…?” Farkle looks like he’s held his breath in for Maya’s entire rant, and looks at Riley, who whispers back, “No. I don’t let us keep alcohol in the apartment.”

 

Maya lets out a laugh and for a second, Farkle is sure it’s something he said, so his menu goes up as a shield, but then she’s ranting again, “And the BEST part is, he’s like the greatest fucking teacher ever. The kids adore him, like love him, so much. He’s a genius, like he’s got all life’s problems figured out and his only true reason for being on this earth is to share them with people. He’s so funny and so hot, oh my god, Riles, he is. Like his eyes, you know? And HE knows exactly what he’s doing. But I have no fucking CLUE what he’s doing, and that’s why I can’t just like him for all his goodness. He gave his class a pop quiz every period but it wasn’t a pop quiz, he just wrote a word on the board, ‘the moon’, and the class wrote stuff or drew pictures or did skits about it and they all laughed and I thought it was funny but they all LEARNED SOMETHING. How could you learn something from a kid pretending to walk on the moon? Please tell me, because I have been trying to figure out how the kids do it, how the hell HE does it, all… day...”

 

“That’s all you did?”

 

“ALL I did?” Maya’s voice goes up when she says it, and she takes a deep breath, as if she’s going underwater for a long time, “There are not enough cups of coffee in the world. I was so confused. He was literally our 7th grade Mr. Matthews in the form of a 20-something cowboy.”

 

“I have a headache just thinking about that.” Riley whispered under her breath.

 

“Tell me about it. He was so inspirational. Do you know how many paintings I could do from that? Like a million. And it’s been one day. He’s driving me insane, you guys. I want to be a teacher so bad but did the universe have to do it this way?” She hangs her head back and shouts it, and Riley’s acutely aware/embarrassed/nervous that people are starting to stare.

 

“He doesn’t sound that bad,” Farkle says, and to his surprise, Maya doesn’t lash out, she softens and starts fidgeting with her hands.

 

“I know. That’s the problem. I’m really bad at the friends thing, not that we have to be or anything, but you know, it would make sense to be civil at least, so I was going to do it, but I’m just so bad at it. I clam up. I spit out mean things. You guys put up with it because I’ve known you for 20 years but other people don’t. They just see how sarcastic and un-touchy-feely I am and bam I’ve got no love life and the same two friends since I was a fetus.”

 

“I’m sensing a but, here…”

 

“BUT— _he_ doesn’t! He’s so insanely nice to me! I called him a Huckleberry and he _laughed_. And the rest of the day when I kept doing it, because I push and I’m borderline rude when I’m nervous instead of just blushing like normal people, he gave it right back. He talked about his time on the farm and how he birthed a baby horse and he only stopped me once when I started using my fake-southern accent because he said he ‘doesn’t sound like that at all’. I don’t get it. He sat on my desk and taught me how to make a paper airplane so I could get back at him for throwing one at me earlier. Then I refused to join him for his break, because I wasn’t hanging out with Ranger Rick let’s be real here, and he brought me back a coffee. It wasn’t right, like how I like it, you know, but after I was so asshole-y _he got me a coffee_? And this is the kicker, oh my god, wait for it—we were kind of talking about why he was a teacher and why I was trying to be one and I didn’t really tell him anything about it, of course, because I don’t tell other people about my mess of a life but I said ‘it was complicated’ and he told me I could talk to him whenever. I. was. ready.”

 

“Are you serious?” “No way. He did that? No way.”

 

“I know! I know! And he wanted to know what my ‘moon’ was for the stupid pop quiz and I told him I’d like to move there and he told me to just ‘move towards it’. What the actual fuck, you guys? I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.”

 

“Isn’t that the same thing as moving to it?” Farkle’s science brain was going into overdrive.

 

“It probably means more than that. If he’s as much like my dad as you say…” Riley drummed her fingers on the table.

 

And the three of them just worked that way. The facts, the dreams, the feelings.

 

“It has been _such a day_ , you guys. My head hurts. I just want to make art and instead I have to hate this guy that I could totally love but I’m me so I’m never going to and his stupid History class that’s not going to help me in any way that I could possibly fathom—”

 

“But don’t you just observe a class, no matter what the subject, so you can take notes and learn so that when you student teach and then eventually—” Farkle starts, but Riley cuts him off to say that she’s tried this about a million times already, Maya just won’t understand it.

 

“Okay, Jessica?” Farkle waved the waitress over to their table, “I think we need our drinks now. Anything with alcohol here?”

 

And the same way she did that night at the pizza place, she complained about it and complained about it and complained about it. And all she got out of it was a headache and this thought:

 

It wasn’t worth it.

 

That’s what she broke it all down to as she sat in her bed Monday morning. Her head hurt a lot a lot and her eyes didn’t want to stay open and there were a good 20 episodes of _The Bachelor_ she still needed to watch because she missed the whole season trying to go to school again, so it wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t worth it to sit through another long day of that cowboy’s class.

 

“Maya, you had two days to get over it.” Riley threw the covers off the bed as Maya groaned. “So get up, and get over it.” She turned the lights on, blindingly bright in the 6am darkness, and stormed out of the room. “Hurry, or I leave _without you_ and the pancakes _with me_.”

 

It wasn’t worth it, maybe, but she knew it was worth something.

 

She had barely survived the 4 other class periods of history on Friday, all consisting of those mysterious “pop quizzes”.

She wanted to like him but she had a sucky history with everyone (that wasn’t a Matthews or Farkle, really) so she couldn’t. She couldn’t stop teasing him and she couldn’t open up and she couldn’t let him in and—was this really only the second day she was seeing him? It felt like she had _years_ to stress over this.

 

Right about now she had 30 more seconds, as she walked towards her old middle school and saw Huckleberry sitting at the top of the steps, as if he was waiting for her. She tried hard to suppress the smile when she found out that he was (but she didn’t, of course, she didn’t).

 

“Good morning, sunshine—is that good, do we like that?” And when he said it he smiled so brightly, she swears he could have been the sunshine.

 

“I wouldn’t go that far. I didn’t have time for coffee, with this whole, being on time thing I’m trying.”

 

“I noticed. I like it, by the way. It was getting cold out here and this,” he hands her a cup of coffee, “was getting cold too.” She takes it with a smile that she hopes says the ‘thank you’ she’s still working on saying out loud. “How about the moon? You look like a moon to me. That’s where you’re moving, right?”

 

“Apparently, I’m just supposed to be moving towards it.” She scoffs.

 

“That’s right! You passed pop quiz number two. Congrats.” He pats her on the back and his hand stays there as they walk inside. She feels tingly. She’s stuck and warm and fuzzy and tingly. It’s disgusting.

 

“I like that kind of pop quiz much better. It was like a real, actual, normal one. Are you going to explain to me what that other thing was? Ever?”

 

“Probably not.” She glares. He throws his hands up in mock defense, “I totally would, if I could, but I don’t think there’s a way.” She glares again. “I swear, the ideas just come to me, you know? The first time I did it I just had this ‘light bulb’ moment, and it _worked,_ and I was so proud of myself. I finally felt like a teacher, you know? Like I was doing what I was really meant to do. And when those kids smile, I swear the whole world smiles.” He looks over at her, “I’m getting too sappy, right?”

 

“Like syrup.”

 

“My favorite for shortstacks like you.” He winks at her, and she wants to punch him, right then and there (but she doesn’t, of course, she doesn’t). That stupid grin and those stupidly beautiful eyes will be the death of her, she’s certain.

 

“Don’t push me, Bucky. You gave me this red pen for grading papers and I’m not afraid to use it.” And when he brushed her hand to take the coffee away as punishment she’s _very certain_. So so so sickeningly certain.

 

Good thing Riley’s on speed-dial.

 

///

 

She has become very comfortable in his classroom by day 4. Her back corner desk is really homey.

 

But it really happened, though, after a small stupid fight on the steps where they started to meet every morning. She didn’t have to make coffee anymore, saving her a few bucks, because she knew he’d always have it and like a gentleman wouldn’t let her buy it for them ever—she learned _this_ the hard way:

 

It was the one day she _did_ buy it for them that they fought, a stupid nothing (that in the future happened quite often, no biggie). He said he was just doing something nice and she said she just wanted to not be so needy but he said he didn’t think she was needy and she said he didn’t have to be her teacher outside of the classroom and he said he wasn’t he said that he was literally just. being. nice. but she said she didn’t like nice and he said it was no big deal so she said if it was no big deal then why’d he start fighting her on it and he said whatever I’ll drink your coffee whatever whatever whatever she said whatever yours is better I give up. And they stopped talking. Maya gave into his stupid pretty eyes and she was angry at herself for it.

 

So when she walked into the classroom she forgot where she was and she forgot her place and she started spitting out her mockery of him because she didn’t know how else to cope with bottled up _feelings_ in the middle of his lesson.

 

But ohmygod it was so great.

 

It wasn’t even her best line or comeback or whatever really, but when she said it and the class erupted into laughter, boy, was she a winner. They started to wait for it after that, to hear their teacher and this childish adult in the back go at it every day. She always did most of it. She had a mile-long list of nicknames for him now and he had just one for her. So she always thought she’d win but sometimes she didn’t. And while that would usually make her angryangryangry beyond repair, she actually looked forward to seeing if she’d lose. The class sometimes loved her more if she did. Kelly (front row second from the left first period, she knew know, but who’s checking?) gave her the shiny sticker from her test one day. She keeps it on the back of her phone case.

 

///

 

She likes that he’s a cowboy. Loves it, maybe. She decides that she does on the Thursday of her second week observing him.

 

He’s teaching them about Texas when she discovers it. The unit they’re learning is like the “manifest destiny” or some shit like that she could honestly care less about at first but then she cares _so much_ because he has the class square dance. They fucking s _quare dance_ in the middle of their history class.

 

She can’t believe him. She can’t believe how much she _likes_ him all of a sudden.

 

Of course, it was all her doing, teasing him about it before the class began, but Dan (second row last desk on the right first period, she swears she doesn’t remember on purpose) overhears them on his way to his seats and challengingly asks, “Mr. Friar, _you’re from Texas?_ Sick! Why’d you never tell us that?!”

 

Lucas laughs it off, nervously, because he knows when he hears Maya laugh like _that_ he’s in for it, he really, truly is.

 

“He _never_ told you, huh?” Maya questions with an undeniable smirk in her voice, “Dan, _you_ have _no idea_ how much of a Hee-haw your good old teacher here is. You have no idea.”

 

“Dan, don’t listen to her—”

 

“No, I swear the honest and good truth here when I tell you that Mr. Friar _himself_ admitted to _me_ that he lived in Texas almost his whole life and can do the fun lasso tricks you see in movies and he keeps a cowboy hat in his apartment _and_ he can ride a horse. Birthed one too.” The class has focused all their attention on her now, listening in awe, like _this_ is quite possibly the best lesson they have ever learned. Maya doesn’t remember how she gathered every Texan-detail about him, but somewhere between their time together from the steps in the morning to 2am phone calls (she was _so embarrassed_ that she did it at first but he was so happy to talk to her what a sap that guy really she could hear his smile through the phone so now she makes it like a regular thing at a more decent time), she became his friend.

 

The word felt funny in her brain, and very funny when it accidentally slipped out one day in the copy room but now she likes it. Loves it, maybe.

 

So her brain and her heart spit out her favorite things she’s learned about him and she catches herself before she makes them too mushy (it’s too soon, right?) because the class wants to hear how he possibly was able to fall off a _sheep_ , a little, innocent sheep for crying out loud.

 

“You guys have to stop her now, or she will never stop, please. We all know her favorite thing in the world to do is make fun of me,” Lucas pleads when they laugh at him again, and Maya has a hard time trying to figure out if that’s still her favorite thing, or if just being with him has replaced it. Ohmygod he made her so mushy.

 

“Okay, okay, we’ll end it here so I can save some stories for our next rainy day but one more, I swear.” The kids cheer and Lucas rolls his eyes and _god_ someone stop her from saying that she loves it because she’s becoming the type of girl she typically would hate. “Okay, so one day I got stuck here late because my friend Riley was supposed to pick me up but she got held up at her fancy journalist job so I was sitting in Lucas’s—yikes, Mr. Friar’s—fancy teacher chair, because that thing is like a pillow from heaven and you should all try it. But that’s besides the point.” Lucas shakes his head and tells them there’s a lasso in his closet if anyone does. She continues as the class hangs onto her every word, “So it gets good when he walks back into the room and catches me, threatens me the same way he just threatened you, and I threaten him back. I don’t believe that he can do all the cowboy-ish things he claims he can do, so he tells me, ‘pick one, I’ll prove it,’ and so I ask him to square dance for me. But guess what, ladies and gents, he _CAN’T!_ ”

 

“That is a lie.” Lucas is standing now, ready to take her on the same way he did in the story Maya was telling.

 

“He made at least 8 excuses, you guys. There was not enough room and he didn’t have music and you had to do it with a bunch of other people and he’d just knock into a desk and it’s been years since he did it last and blahblahblah. He just wouldn’t admit that he can’t square dance.” Maya looks back at him and at the giggling kids (“No way, Mr. Friar, you square-dance?” “He totally can!” “Are you kidding, I believe Miss Hart way more” “I would pay money to see that”) and smiles triumphantly. Someone duct-tape her mouth shut because _she loves this_.

 

“Alright, you know what? Enough. I’m going to show you that I know how to square dance and you’re all going to do it with me.” Maya’s jaw dropped. “C’mon, move the chairs. Y’all gotta put in the work on my ranch here.” He says it with a grossly overdone southern accent and a devilish wink in his eyes and Maya knows she’s gone, _so_ far gone.

 

The class chatters excitedly and they all move their desks to the outsides of the classroom to create a dance floor in the center. Maya hops up to sit on one but the cowboy grabs her hand and pulls her to the center before she can even get comfortable for the show. She swears she’s not doing it but he swears he needs a partner (pronounced pAHRtner) to demonstrate and she swears she’ll kill him for this but he swears it’ll be worth it.

 

Worth it. Totally worth it.

 

He gets Brandon to blast some music from his phone and after ‘feeling the beat’ like the biggest dork on the planet he starts to step a little to the side, crossing his legs and clapping together. The class claps with him and she _can’t_ stop laughing at all, she’s not even moving she’s just looking at him and _laughing_ , laughing so hard she thinks tears are forming, and when he gets a few steps in he turns to her and looks her right in the eyes and _sings_.

 

“Nonononono make it stop, please, no, oh my god he’s a real cowboy, it’s like a living nightmare!” She’s screeching at him nonstop just a bunch of nonono’s and makeitstops’s and she’s shaking her head but her laugh betrays her and he’s got both of her hands now and she’s looking into those perfect blue eyes and she’s sure it’s no nightmare, this is a dream.

 

“You asked for it.” He whispers to her when he pulls her in close to skip down the line and she knows she never wants to let go (and she doesn’t, of course, she doesn’t) because this feels magical—this feels _real—_ can it be real? If someone had told her that her inability to keep her “nothing nice to say”s to herself all these years would have gotten her the best moment in the world she’d have laughed in your face (and said one of those mean things). Because she’s Maya Hart, she’s supposed to be an artist and she’s supposed to be broke and she’s supposed to hate school and her life’s supposed to suck because that’s how shitty life has been to her.

 

She’s just stuck. But in that moment, she’s definitely not.

 

They scoot to the end of the room and grab kids to join them in the middle and soon everyone’s up. They step and clap a lot, some bust out the ‘cotton eyed joe’, she even catches some do-si-dos and pretend lassos. They make two lines and everyone runs through with their friends, showing off their best cowboy moves and square dance tricks and Lucas teaches them a ‘simple-two-step’ that maybe 3 people actually figure out but they all give it their best effort when they trip over each other’s feet (and sometimes their own).

 

Maya is sure 6 songs have played before the infectious laughter subsides for a moment to breathe and they all sit in a circle on the floor. Friends are talking, complimenting each other on their moves and girls are braiding each other’s hair and some boys are congratulating Lucas on being such a cowboy and Maya swears she’s going to buy them a chocolate bar or something for that. And she wishes she could freeze a moment in time and keep it alive forever because the painting she plans on doing tonight could never do this justice, nothing tangible could have what Maya has right now.

 

She’s pretty sure Riley has referred to it as happiness once or twice.

 

“So, Manifest Destiny, huh?” Lucas claps his hands together and brings it all back.

 

Maya is happy to hear the class groan. (“I’ve done it, I’ve left my mark on these kiddos.”)

 

///

 

“I hope everyone is doing well in their observation assignment. As you know, it is now the beginning of week 4, your last week,” the professor’s heels click as she walks up and down the rows and Maya is sure her heartbeat matches the pace. “One of my favorite parts of teaching this course is hearing the… horror stories each of you experienced. And from the bits I’ve heard so far, I’m sure you all will not disappoint me,” she smiles warmly as she says it and the class chuckles and Maya can literally _feel_ her heartbeat now. “I want you all to write a paper detailing your time in the classroom. Please don’t stick to what you learned and all that nonsense—yeah, it’s all great stuff and that’s what the college says you’re here for but I’m not getting any younger and reading 28 papers on classroom etiquette isn’t going to help that. Tell me about everything you saw and did, all the ins and outs and betweens—I’ve found you all learn a lot more from that than any definition I could give you in here. Don’t stress over it, just a page or two, and bring it back next Monday when we start practicing for student teaching.”

 

The class begins to talk amongst themselves, all very excited to dive in and really teach and someone asks Maya why she doesn’t look as excited as the rest of them are and she shrugs, saying she is, she really is, but they don’t seem so convinced. Now she’s really confused because, yeah, she doesn’t feel like she’s as excited as she should be. They all talk about grading papers and writing on the board and making presentations and getting to use the faculty room and Maya laughs to herself because she’s already done all of that. Lucas let her grade all his papers with her and he almost never wrote on the board because she always begged him to do it _and he’d let her_ and they sat in the faculty room during lunch and made fun of smelly old teachers as if they were kids and she always messed up the buttons on the copy machine but he still always let her press the buttons and he never stopped her when she voiced her crazy opinions on his lesson and the whole class got off topic. He didn’t treat her like she was lower than him, as it seemed all these other teachers did. Yes, he always pointed out how vertically-challenged she was (shortstack!) but no, he never made her feel smaller than him. So she doesn’t feel more excited to be a student teacher because in a lot of ways she already was one.

 

She tells herself she’ll finally get to be in an art classroom with a real art teacher. She tells herself it’s okay that that fact doesn’t make her as excited as she knows it should have.

 

The professor dismisses the class and tells them all to enjoy their last week in their classrooms and Maya jumps out of her seat and races to the door because it’s already 9:30 and she’s bummed that she missed first period (which has definitely become her favorite, shh don’t tell anyone) but she thinks that if she rushes she’ll make it in time to see the last few periods he teaches.

 

But she has to stop when she hears the professor call, “Maya!” and ohmygod, professor, if she waits any longer Chris from period 4 is going to steal her seat again and she’s going to have to sit on the cell-phone jail bucket in the front corner again and that’s a moment she never wants to have to relive. But she turns around and walks to the professor’s desk.

 

“Maya, I’m in the middle of working out where everyone will be student teaching and I’ve been trying to match everyone up with exactly the subject and age group they want. And I thought you’d be happy to hear that I found an elementary school art class for you.” She smiles brightly at Maya and Maya tries to smile back but she knows it’s not reaching her eyes and that kills her. This is what she wants to do, this is was she’s _supposed_ to do because she’s Maya Hart and she’s an artist and her life sucks but she went to school again so that people could pay her to paint. So it shouldn’t be the worst news ever when she remembers she can’t stay in the cowboy’s class forever. She’s going to be an art teacher.

 

“Yeah, that’s great, I’d love that,” she chokes out, half meaning it and half trying to convince herself that she does.

 

“It’s yours if you want it, but I’m not so sure that’s the best decision for you anymore,”

 

Maya wants to shut it down, take the art class offer and run so she doesn’t have to miss another precious second of her history class that’s being taken away from her, but it’s bothering her that it’s _not_ bothering her that someone just tried to tell her she shouldn’t be an artist and something makes her ask, “Really? What class?”

 

“Of course, it’s not really my place to say what subject you should or shouldn’t teach, I’m sure you’d love that art class. But as your wise and old professor and honestly the biggest emotional sap you’ve ever seen, I read something last night that changed my mind and I hope can change yours as well.” She hands a stack of papers to Maya.

 

“What is this?”

 

“Every teacher has to send me a report on their observer. They’re always the same, a paragraph on the teaching methods they used and how they reacted to the class and blah. They’re such a bore to read, but everyone usually has a really good line or two to say about the student or gives a recommendation and it really makes my heart swell, you know? It feels good to know that good things are coming out of this, so I keep doing them. Anyway, last night I grabbed a stack of papers thinking I could knock a bunch of them out in one night, only to discover that the whole pile I picked up was just _one person’s_ report.” Maya shook her head in disbelief. All of these were from one person? The funniest part was that she had a feeling who it was. “Honestly, Maya, I read these through at least 3 times each, and I assume you’ll do that too. You are very lucky, and very _loved_ , Maya, more than you know. You are going to make a lot of people very happy as a teacher.” Maya looked up at her in disbelief.

 

And if they say there’s a moment in your life when you know what you’re supposed to do and you’re so certain about it and you never want to do anything else, she knows she’s having that moment, has _been_ having it the past 3 weeks that she’s sat in that classroom with those kids and she’s surprised she ever wanted to be anything other than a teacher ever.

 

“Let me know on Monday if you still want that art class,” the professor says as she gathers her things and Maya mumbles something affirmative as she exists the room, already beginning to read the first page.

 

She ends up not going to middle school that day because she’s stuck on her couch reading those papers all day and it’s so fucking sappy and embarrassing because as soon as Riley walks through the door she runs over and gets her a box of tissues.

 

**_Why Miss Hart is going to be the BEST teacher ever_ **

_By Mr. Friar’s first period history class_

  1. _She knows her right from her left every time without ever using her hands to figure it out. That’s pretty major. I always get messed up and I’m always sure I’m going to get laughed at because I always used to be, but I haven’t since Miss Hart came. She can tell when I don’t know and pretends she doesn’t know instead so that I can see and then I don’t have to ask. That’s why she’s the best. –Jack_
  2. _I once had both my shoes untied when I walked into class and I didn’t notice. It wasn’t until right before the bell was going to ring that I finally did and there was no way I was going to tie them both before I had to leave. I bent down to start, and without even blinking, Miss Hart was already there. She tied both my shoes in less than 30 seconds and said “piece of cake, really.” All before the bell rang. That’s why she’s the best. –Shay_
  3. _I’m super lucky because my desk is right next to hers, all the way in the back corner, where I always sit because I’m so shy. I hate it, but I can’t help it. I always think I know the answers but I’m afraid to say them out loud, and whenever Miss Hart sees me with my hand half in the air she tells me to whisper the answer to her. I do, and she tells me that’s right and that I’m SO BRILLIANT and then I put my hand all the way up and Mr. Friar calls on me. And Miss Hart doesn’t stop smiling because she says she’s so proud of me and her smile is so great that I can answer the next question all on my own. That’s why she’s the best. –Daniella_
  4. _She’s the coolest person ever. Literally. She wears ripped jeans and shirts with rock bands on them and sometimes Mr. Friar tells her she has to wear something more professional so she pulls a blazer out of her purse. Is that not the coolest thing ever? And she always laughs after like she knows she’s the coolest. She even told me about a new song by one of the bands that we both like and she snuck me her headphones in the middle of class to listen. Please don’t fire her because I said that. It’s not a regular thing. She’s cool like that, but she’s even cooler when you just talk to her. That’s why she’s the best. –Eric_
  5. _She’s so smart. One day when we were taking a quiz, I finished early and was working on my math homework and I was stuck on this impossible equation and she saw, so she shot a paper airplane at me that had all the steps and the explanations for them. That’s why she’s the best. –Marissa_
  6. _I thought it was really cool when she shot that paper airplane at Marissa so before the homeroom bell rang one morning she taught me how to make one. It was really hard and I still don’t think I’m that good at it but in her eyes my planes could fly across the Atlantic. She showed them all off by shooting them at Mr. Friar. That’s why she’s the best. –Brett_
  7. _She’s like your cool older sister. Like the kind that is your best friend but still knows how to show who’s boss (even though that’s technically Mr. Friar but we all like it better when Miss Hart pretends it’s her anyway). She can be laughing her head off and making Mr. Friar repeat “the president’s DUTY” one second and then she’ll run around the room and give us high fives because she’s just proud of us and then the next minute she’s giving Alex a detention because he cheated on the test. She’s got every good side and that’s what every kid wants in a teacher. That’s why she’s the best. –Dylan_
  8. _Yeah, she gave me a detention. I mean, technically Mr. Friar did, but she called me out. And I was mad at first, but it’s so hard to be mad at her because she always has this silly smile when she’s around any of us. She came to detention and asked me why I cheated. We talked about it and I was really embarrassed at first but she was so easy to talk to. She told me she cheated in school for the same reasons. She wanted me to know that there’s always a different way to get better. Something about going back to where it started. And it would have been so easy to hear her tell me this and think that if she cheated then so could I, but I didn’t. She’s helped me study a lot, and I haven’t had to cheat ever since, and I know I never will. That’s why she’s the best. –Alex_
  9. _She’s a really good singer. She does it a lot in class, like if someone says something and it reminds her of a lyric to a song, she’ll start singing it. Sometimes she makes songs up about whatever we’re learning that day and we all stop to learn the words so we can sing it too. (I swear they really help to remember stuff on tests). But the best singing is when she doesn’t know we can see it, like before we go into the classroom and she’s serenading Mr. Friar with a silly cowboy song. She does that a lot, but sometimes she sings him nice ones and it’s really sweet. That’s why she’s the best. –Lauren_
  10. _She’s basically the coolest person I know. I mean, we all thought Mr. Friar was the coolest, but then she came, and I mean, c’mon. I hope I can be just like her one day. That’s why she’s the best. –Vin_
  11. _She’s an artist. Never told me she was but I knew. She draws on a lot of her papers when we’re not doing anything fun in the class (very, very rare, but it’s happened). And it’s not just drawings that make her an artist, she takes every opportunity in life to make art. She sketches on the board to distract from “learning, ugh!” and turns the grades on our papers into pictures. But the best kind of art is when she dances up and down the aisles to hand papers back and stands on the desk to reenact the Gettysburg Address and hangs up things we draw on the wall behind her desk and how she literally lights up the room just being in it. That’s why she’s the best. –Nina_
  12. _She’s a talker. It doesn’t matter who you are, she will find something in common with you and she’ll talk about it for hours. One day I wore a turtleneck to school, which is really no big deal, but one look at her and you might have thought it was the reason the earth was spinning. She told me all about her friend named Farkle (?) who always wore turtlenecks and he had this orange one that he liked a lot and how he was going to take over the world and he’s so so so smart and now he’s got a big fancy job at a big fancy company that she tried telling me about but she got sidetracked when she thought about her best friend Riley’s big fancy job that she was going to visit tonight because she got a new desk and needed her help to set it up and the turtleneck guy would be there too and she’ll have to tell him that she found another turtleneck-lover. I’ve literally worn it once. (But between you and me, if she’s going to talk more like that, I wouldn’t mind wearing it a few more times.) That’s why she’s the best. –Freddie_
  13. _It was the day before my birthday and someone asked what I was going to do. I told them probably nothing since I just live with my dad and he was on a business trip the rest of the week. I wasn’t really upset about it because my dad works really hard and it wasn’t like he was just gone for fun, you know? But no matter how much I knew this to be true, I guess it’s human nature to be a little let-down when you wake up on your birthday to nothing. But it didn’t last long, because when I walked into the room everyone surprised me with banners and ribbons and singing and Miss Hart was right in the front holding a big cookie cake. I know she was the one who came up with the idea but she’ll never take credit for it. That’s why she’s the best. –Jessica_
  14. _Miss Hart pretends not to care a lot but she really does. I can tell. A lot of the times it’s when Mr. Friar tells us what we’re going to learn about and she shakes it off like “psh learning history is boring” but if you look really really close she drums her fingers on the desk and doesn’t take her eyes off him the whole time. She does the finger thing a lot. I’ve figured out that’s what she does when she tries to hide it. She loves this stuff and that’s why she’s the best. (but I can’t figure out why she always looks at Mr. Friar like that.) –Erin_
  15. _The best part about having homeroom in Mr. Friar’s class used to be on Wednesdays when he’d bring us in breakfast foods like donuts and bagels and one time pancakes(!!!) but now the best part is trying to get Miss Hart to wake up. Wednesdays are like the worst days because they’re right in the middle and you’re exhausted and you want to go to sleep but the weekend is still far away—this is Miss Hart EVERY day before the bell. She comes in with her cup of coffee and usually lays across three desks. Sometimes she starts to drift off and sometimes she’s out cold without even trying to keep her eyes open. We have tried so many different ways: singing, clapping chalkboard erasers, shaking the desk, throwing pancakes at her. It’s the best part of my day because once we (finally) wake her up, her whole face lights up as if this was exactly where she wanted to wake up every day. That’s why she’s the best. –Derek_
  16. _Miss Hart and I get along very well because we both like to tease Mr. Friar. She does it a lot more than me though. I mean, he’s my teacher, so I have to be nice to him, but it’s always been fun to goof off with him sometimes. But Miss Hart, she doesn’t seem worried about getting in trouble at all—she’s constantly going at him for his little cowboy quirks and the funny things he says when he’s teaching us. They go back and forth all the time. Huckleberry, Ranger Rick, Sundance, Hee-Haw. They’re so much fun. She’s so much fun. She even told me I could take a field trip to the moon with her. That’s why she’s the best. –Brandon_
  17. _My dad left us last week. Got in the car and drove away without even saying goodbye. I don’t really know why, I think I’ll learn later, maybe when mom stops crying and wants to talk about it, but right now it hurts and I’m empty. Well, I_ was _. I kind of lost it one day in class because I just couldn’t keep it all bottled up anymore and as soon as I started crying Miss Hart got me and took me into the hallway. At first she just sat there and hugged me for a really long time while I cried it all out. And then I talked. I told her what happened and she looked like she was going to cry too. She said her dad left her too, when she was just 6 and he hasn’t come back since. But in a lot of ways, she said, it was better. She and her mom were doing really good in the life department, she said. She has 2 of the greatest friends on the planet and now she has the greatest kids in the world (us, she totally meant us). She told me it’s going to be really hard at first, because you want answers and you feel alone and confused. She said growing up she made a lot of really bad choices because of those feelings. She doesn’t want me to shut every good thing out like she did, because when you let it in, you get great things like ice cream sundaes and messy dorm rooms and matching Christmas pjs. Her dad didn’t come back and her heart had a big spot missing because of it, but it’s not impossible to fill it back in. Piece by piece, you find all the other people you love in life, and they fill it back in. She filled part of mine that day. That’s why she’s the best. –Kelly_
  18. _I was innocently walking into class one day when I heard Mr. Friar and Miss Hart talking about how he’s from Texas. This, obviously, was cool and exciting news to me because I had no idea Mr. Friar was from Texas and that means he’s basically a cowboy. (Miss Hart liked it when I told her that.) And then all because of my curiosity Miss Hart started telling us all these stories. She’s the best storyteller I ever heard. So good, she got us to square dance. It felt like we were a family. Mr. Friar has been the best teacher ever and he always will be, but I can’t wait for you to make Miss Hart one. That’s why she’s the best. –Dan_
  19. _She can say the alphabet backwards. No regular person can do that. We all tried one day (and the substitute looked like she was going to flip) but Miss Hart was the only one that could do it. We were still trying the next day when Mr. Friar came back and when he was tired of listening to the alphabet she played country music and made him square dance again. That’s why she’s the best. –Fallon_
  20. _She got us upgraded to the smelly stickers. One day she was handing us back some papers and she stopped when she got to mine. I was confused, but watched her when she scratched the sticker on my paper and held it up to her nose to sniff. She looked at it funny and tried again. I asked her what she was doing and she said that grape smelly stickers were always her favorite but she was very disappointed to find that mine was broken. Mr. Friar had to tell her that they weren’t smelly to begin with. Then she called HIM smelly, because “it was bad enough you gave the poor kid a sticker with a cartoon grape with eyes and a mouth saying ‘grape work!’ but on top of that you couldn’t even make it smell nice?” The next day we each had 2 smelly stickers on our desk. That’s why she’s the best. –Joe_
  21. _She was so excited when she found out my name was Riley. Talked to me about it forever. Apparently she knows another Riley, and she happens to be the greatest human being on the planet (she swears she’s not lying…and the way she smiles when she says it, I totally believe her). When she first found out, she almost exploded with joy, she said there’s a million things she wanted to tell me about her, so I told her each day she’d have to tell me just one until we got through them all. She’s never failed. One day she told me about when they moved into their apartment together, then she told me how they sold all their clothes when they were younger, or when they got so lost on the subway after their first high school party and when they came THIS CLOSE to burning down Farkle’s house when they tried to make him a cake for his birthday which is apparently a feat because that house is HUGE and how she wanted to be a bunny farmer but now is the coolest journalist ever and her favorite color is purple and she swears she’s going to name her own pet bunny or her firstborn (whichever comes first) Violet and how the two of them have friendship rings that have magical powers. Sometimes she writes these things to me on paper and passes them to me in class but I like it better when she tells them to me because she lights up. That’s why she’s the best. –Riley_
  22. _She gives the best hugs. I wish I had a better story to tell about this, but I think the best part is that there really is none. She never needs to know a reason, she’ll never laugh at you or refuse. If you need someone she’s there. It’s really hard to be a kid sometimes. Even if adults really do have it a lot worse than us, being here can be pretty rough too, and it’s rare to find someone who agrees with that. Miss Hart is so easy to trust, and we’re really lucky to have her for everything. We’re always able to talk to Mr. Friar, he really is great, but sometimes Miss Hart doesn’t even need you to come up to her—she’ll come to you. So even when you don’t know you need someone,_ she knows _. That’s why she’s the best. –Mike_
  23. _I don’t think there’s a lot more I can say about her that hasn’t already been said. She’s something I never knew I needed in my life. She’s a challenge, that’s for sure. She pushes all of us past our limits every day that we’ve been blessed to know her. Yeah, it’s been short, but as you can see, she’s made such an impact on my kids. Each class has taken such a liking to her, but this class seemed especially attached. Maybe it’s the extra time in homeroom, who knows? But I do know that they adore her, probably more than they love me (Which hurts, because I built myself up for months to be a cool teacher and she comes in and does it in a day. Unreal.) Everything the kids have said is true. I have such a hard time putting into words what she has done for us, for me, but I think without even meaning to, these kids gave a better student-observer report that I could have ever crafted. Her heart is so big, even if she tries to hide it behind all her cowboy nicknames for me. She is going to work wonders in her classroom one day—any student she will have is bound to go great places/take over the world. One or the other. You never know with that pretty little blonde head of hers. I absolutely hate coffee but I stop for it every morning because I know she tries so hard to be a morning person (if you could get her a late school, that would be great?). I’m sorry that I probably helped her break just about every single rule that a student-observer is supposed to follow but I just could not say no to those big green eyes when she wanted to write on the board or use (break) the copy machine. The truth is, she’s destined for a lot of great things, so much greater and bigger than our little 7 th grade history classroom. We got very lucky to catch her on her way towards the moon, and I felt we had to use very bit of light she had to offer while she was here. Thank you for giving us someone so wonderful, please make sure her next stop knows she likes butter on her bagels and grape smelly stickers and is the worst at square-dancing and has a big mouth but always knows how to use it and sneaks her rock band tees under fancy blazers and has the most amazing smile you’ll ever see. Make sure they’re ready for her. She’s taught us all a lot, more than we, more than I, could have taught her. I have to stop here or I’ll get too mushy (as she always likes to call me out on). Miss Hart is moving to the moon, or maybe just towards it, but she’s on one hell of a ride. Thank you for letting us be apart of it. That’s why she’s the best. –Mr. Friar_



Maya reads it over and over again until the words start to blur and when Lucas calls to ask her where she was (how dare she worry him like that!!), she just yells at him for making her cry like a baby because the whole thing was a lot for her but his part really just put her over the edge. And he has no idea what in the world she’s talking about so she reads him what he wrote and he lets out a breath and swears that couldn’t have possibly been him that wrote that he’s just a cowboy and ohmygod she loves him so much. It scares her a little but it makes her happy a lot. Like really a lot.

 

“You know, we were going to save those for before you left. The kids were distraught the other day when they heard you were leaving. I mean, I’m pretty sure they all just assumed you were with us forever. I had to explain to them that you had to go to school to become a teacher, and that’s what you were doing. They totally didn’t believe me because in their eyes you could have single-handedly placed all the starts in the sky. So when they realized I was telling the truth, they decided they need to tell whoever was keeping you from being a teacher right this instant a thing or two.”

 

“They certainly did that. You know, most normal people would just bake a cake or sign a card or something. Leave it to the cowboy’s kids to write freaking essays for me.”

 

“Told them we could just throw you a party but, what can I say, they learned from the best. Me _and you_.”

 

Maya’s heart swelled when she listened to him speak and curse that mushy cowboy, he made her reach for another tissue. She made a decision right then and there.

 

“Hey, Riley, could you hand me those papers over there?” Maya motioned towards the two papers she left on the kitchen table before. Lucas hears and says “Oh, hey Riley,” through the phone and as she comes back with the papers Riley says, “Hey blue eyes,” and Maya is going to scream because Riley has never met him, never seen him, never heard anything more about him other than classroom stories (or so she thinks, does she babble?) so “HOW DID YOU POSSIBLY KNOW ABOUT—” (“I just guessed Maya, it was easy. It’s a thing—you have a thing.”) Maya shakes it off because ohmygod she _does not_ have a thing (and blue eyes, really? Even if she did have a thing she’d go for something better than boys with blue eyes).

 

She looks at the two papers she has. Both detail her two options for student teaching assignments. One for Mrs. Everly’s 3rd grade Art class and one for Mr. Friar’s 7th grade History class.

 

She tucks one beneath her piles of papers and throws the other one in the trash.

 

“Well, good news and bad news, Huckleberry. Bad news is, you can’t throw me that party anymore because, good news: I’m not leaving you guys just yet.”

 

///

 

Riley really wants to meet him.

 

Maya really doesn’t.

 

“You’re not even giving me a reason!”

 

“You don’t need a reason.”

 

“I need a reason when I see you blush like that.”

 

“I’m not blushing.”

 

“I’m not putting the phone down unless you give me a valid reason why I can’t meet him.” Silence. She can’t do it. “Well, here we go then.” Maya jumps up and down on the couch trying and hopelessly failing to snatch her cell phone back from Riley but damn her stupid giraffe genetics because she’s got her arms stretched all the way up and Maya’s not even coming close so the phone rings and rings and _fuck,_ Riley’s triumphant smile is so cute.

 

“Hello, mysterious boy who’s coming close to stealing my spot as Maya’s best friend.” She flicks her eyes to Maya just in time to see her roll her eyes and plop herself on the couch. Riley’s bouncing on her feet as she towers above her, still smiling as she sings into the phone, “I’m Riley and I need to meet you because anyone who makes Maya roll her eyes when I talk to them and—ow! Maya stop hitting me, I’m gonna fall, ahh!” Riley falls across the couch, her head falling in Maya’s lap. “I’m sorry you have to deal with her. That’s been a role placed solely on me for so many years.”

 

“Don’t listen to her, tell her what a joy I am, Huckleberry,” Maya screeches over Riley’s head as she starts to absently play with her hair.

 

“He heard that and says there’s at least a dozen other words he’d use before ‘joy’ to describe you.” Riley looks up at Maya in time to see her gasp. “Okay, well I think this is something we need to work out. Together, in person,” Maya mouths a nononodontdoit but there she goes, she does it, “So you, mystery teacher, are coming with me, Maya and Farkle to our traditional Friday night pizza. This Friday, 7. Maya will probably pick you up. Great talk. Bye!” Riley rushes through her last few words in a single breath as she stretches farter and farther away from Maya’s death grip closing in on her.

 

“I can’t believe you just did that.” Maya huffs as Riley finally hangs up the phone.

 

“But I did.”

 

“You very much did.”

 

“And you love me.”

“Yeah, whatever, check back with me on Friday.”

 

But she isn’t around that Friday. Or the next. Or the next.

 

Riley, bless whoever up there is helping her out with this, misses 3 Friday pizzas. With Lucas. In a row.

Maya tries to build herself up for it the first Friday all day. Everyone knows she’s off her game—she actually calls Lucas ‘Mr. Friar’ in class and everyone sits in silence for 10 seconds to adjust. She’s just so freaking nervous—it’s like meet the parents nervous but ten times worse because it’s Riley and Farkle (who are basically her parents because without them from an early age she’s afraid she’d be alone somewhere on the street).

 

She says it’s no big deal it’snobigdeal _it’snobigdeal_ at least 87 times before the first bell rings. But we all know it’s a big deal. 

 

“How many times do you think I can throw up before it’s seriously detrimental to my health?” She calls Farkle from the teeny tiny girl’s bathroom stall after she ran out of last period.

 

“You threw up!”

 

“Not yet, but I feel like I might?”

 

“Maya, I’m not going to beat him up, I’m not going to interrogate him on his job and plans for life, I’m not going to make him recite the periodic table, I won’t even look him in the eyes. These are things I save solely for meeting Riley’s boyfriends.”

 

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

 

“Close enough.” She rolls her eyes.

 

“Maya? You in there?” She hears a distressed cowboy voice call as he frantically knocks on the door. “And you can’t lie to me because I have your bathroom pass.”

 

“I know I can’t make you calm down, but for all of our sakes, don’t throw up on him, because if he can’t come tonight, Riley will make sure the two of us won’t be around to show up for the next week either.” Farkle says and the two of them mutter ‘love you’s before he hangs up.

 

So she wants to take a deep breath and pull through (but she doesn’t, of course, she doesn’t).

 

Lucas has to cover his eyes and sneak into the bathroom when the hall monitor isn’t looking because Maya doesn’t come out and he thinks she’s dead or something because she’s never been this silent for so long.

 

She backs up to the door of the stall and slides down and this is disgusting, she needs to take a shower, these floors are gross and sticky, but she’s just as much of a mess right now. She feels him slide down on the other side and touch her hand.

 

She wants to tell him everything but she can’t even tell herself. That’s most of the problem really. She’s stuck.

 

“Lucas, I can’t—”

 

“I waited the whole four weeks for you to talk to me about it, I can easily wait a few more.”

 

“You shouldn’t have to.”

 

“I’d agree with that, but the other day you signed yourself over to the long-run version of this. Long-run Lucas waits forever.”

 

“That’s too long.”

 

“Not long enough.” She loves him she loves him she loves him (that’s definitely the problem, she’s figured out). “But this floor is gross so if you wanna do this forever thing somewhere else, I’d appreciate that a lot.”

 

The pizza place is fairly empty when they get there that night. So empty, that there’s no one at their table when they get there. No Farkle. No Jessica the waitress. No _Riley_.

 

Maya sits in her usual spot in the booth and Lucas sits in Riley’s without knowing but Maya doesn’t make him move.

 

“Maya, I swear, you work some strange magic,” Farkle says when he walks in at 8:15 to catch Lucas and Maya doing the ‘lady and the tramp’ thing to a plate of spaghetti.  “And _this_ is strange.”

 

“That disgusting couple over there that we see every week was doing it and I needed to understand the appeal,” she says as she wipes the sauce off her laughing mouth and blushes uncontrollably because if she was worried before she just made it _a lot_ more uncomfortable.

 

But Lucas doesn’t look uncomfortable at all when he looks at Farkle and says, “No appeal. None at all.” He gets up to shake his hand. “It’s great to meet you, Farkle, I am ready to recite the periodic table whenever you want me to.” He laughs and Farkle says just how much he loves this guy. Maya agrees.

 

“So what strange magic did I work today?”

 

“Riley is at home. _Throwing up.”_ Farkle looks at her with a stern look in his eyes and she’s able to hold her serious face for a good 2 seconds before a laugh escapes. (“Maya, that’s not funny!”)

 

But it’s really funny because somehow, someway, she got another week to pull herself together (but she didn’t, of course, she didn’t).

 

Because the next Friday rolls around and Farkle brags about his date night with the “teachers” (ugh, he can’t call her that yet it makes her sound like a real-life adult) all week to Riley and she’s really angry about it. Maya kept a distance from her the whole weekend because she didn’t want to catch whatever she had and then stayed away most of the week because she thought Riley might murder her.

 

“It’s not fair that Farkle got the best night ever with the two of you when he didn’t even ask for it and I was home emptying all of my insides.” She whined as they walked to work and college together the next Friday morning.

 

“I know, I know, but Farkle laid a good ground and Lucas agreed to do it again. So you’re in. You’re good. I’m not even freaking out on you.” But she was freaking out. Just a little.

 

Because Lucas and Farkle got along so well. _So well._ That freaked her out. Just a little. (A lot.)

 

Maya was having an extremely busy and extremely annoying week. As if Riley’s nagging and puking wasn’t enough, stupid teacher school was being especially stupid this week. (Just because she got a little mushy about it didn’t mean she had to like it all the time).

 

She had classes every day in the mornings and had papers to fill out and write when she got home. Getting ready to student teach was an ordeal, to say the least, requiring a lot of work she didn’t think was necessary from teachers and the school and _her_ considering it’s not like she’s teaching for real yet and if you wanna argue that come see her again when she gets a paycheck for it. She’s afraid she’ll still have so much work to do that she won’t be able to attend pizza night, leaving Lucas alone with Riley and Farkle. Yikes.

 

Needless to say, Maya’s stuck. She hasn’t seen anyone but Riley all week (lies, she saw plenty of people, but she didn’t see the one that counts so it feels like she saw no one at all).

 

Heck, Farkle saw him more than her this week. Farkle liked that he had someone to hang out with that was a male (“I love you girls, really, but it was about damn time I got a friend with an x _and_ a y chromosome, thank you”). They went to see the horror movie Riley wouldn’t let them see a few weeks ago together and they bought new sports jerseys (baseball, she thinks?) for the game they’re going to together next month and they text all the time and they get along _so well and it’s freaking Maya out._

 

She won’t say why though. She still can’t get herself to do it. That’s the problem. She hopes that’s the _only_ problem.

 

She kinda thinks there’s another one though when Riley calls her out for blushing.

 

“Are you blushing? Is _the_ Maya Hart seriously blushing right now?” Riley asks incredulously as they walk down the ten flights of stairs because the stupid elevator broke and this is their only way out (fire escapes were so much easier when they were younger).

 

“No, it’s just hot in here. And these stairs in these boots aren’t working out.” She excuses, but Riley’s not believing it.

 

“You need to work on your excuses, missy, because you can’t say it’s hot in here when it’s December—oh no.” Riley stops mid step and turns to Maya, her face now a bright-white look of terror. “No, no, Maya, what day is it?”

 

“December 5th…”

 

“No! No, nononono. God, I’m so dumb sometimes.” She smacks her hand to her forehead and starts running back up the stairs.

 

“What is it? You need a tampon? We’ve been on the same cycle for years, you know I’ve got extras with me.” Maya calls after her. “Oh no, you missed it. You’re pregnant and didn’t tell me.”

 

 “No, are you crazy? Period tracker app says I should get it tomorrow anyway and if I was pregnant you’d be the first to know.” She sighs, then continues her frantic return up the steps, “It’s Michelle from Editing’s 30th birthday and we’re throwing her a party tonight.”

 

Angels are singing from the heavens, the sun is beaming down on her, she feels like she could run through a field of daisies…

 

“I thought it was soon but no one was talking about it so I guess I just forgot and now I realize, no one was talking about it because it’s a _surprise_!”

 

“A surprise to you too, it seems.”

 

“Alright, at least _pretend_ to not be so happy about this. I have to go run and get a card or something, and oh no I’m gonna be late and ruin it. Ugh, just go eat your pizza and try not to smile so much when you get home, okay?” Riley sighs in defeat and Maya blows her a kiss and waves an “I love you” as she runs in the opposite direction and she wants to be angry that Riley so blatantly accused her of having _feelings_ again but she’s too busy smiling

 

So she makes no promises about the smiling later. None at all.

 

Maya thinks she could cry tears of joy when she sees Lucas waiting outside of the pizza place for her and she runs up and hugs all the breath out of him and anyone else looking (Farkle) would think it’s been a year since she last saw him, not a week. But she doesn’t care, she doesn’t care one bit because she’s missed him and it’s been too long since she last teased him or laughed at him or listened to his voice or let him play with her hair when the kids are taking a test or hug him or love him (god, she’s a mess).

 

She lets go and without a word, like _that_ didn’t just happen, walks inside and gives Farkle nothing but a fist-bump and a “Hey”. (“Okay, cool, Maya, I see how it is.”)

 

And she smiles like an idiot and she’s happy. The friendship thing scares her a little less.

 

But Riley still scares her a lot.

 

Because she moans about it for a whole week again because “it’s not fair that I should be the last one to meet my best friend’s boyfriend and I don’t care how many times you punch me for calling him that it’s just a lot easier than ‘my best friend’s student teaching instructor who also happens to be the only guys she ever talks about ever’”.

 

She punches her just because it freaks her out. And because she’s Maya Hart and if she didn’t someone might actually think she cares (but she doesn’t, of course, she doesn’t) (she thinks).

 

Maya starts student teaching for realsies the next Monday and the universe is playing a whole lot of tricks on her because guess who walks into the room after first period? Mr. Matthews. And as the universe would have it in this twisted game of Maya’s emotions and feelings and loved ones, Lucas student observed and student taught in his class 5 years ago.

 

Universe, this needs to stop.

 

“Of course, my dad had to met him before me, Maya, my _dad._ 5 whole years ago! And now _you’re_ gonna make me wait another week…” Riley trails off angrily as she brushes her hair on the third Friday night she’s missing pizza. Riley met a cute boy on her walk to work and he asked her on a date and she said no at first because she didn’t want to miss another one, but Maya’s making her go on the date (for best friend reasons, of course, of course) but Riley blames it all on her because she thinks she’s just trying to get rid of her again for reasons she can’t figure out.

 

Maya thinks she might have figured them out though. The problem reasons. The why-she’s-freaked-out reasons. She’s trying to get herself to admit them but she’s stuck.

 

“You can talk to me about it, Maya.”

 

“Not now.”

 

“I’ll go on the date but as soon as that ‘now’ happens, you drop everything and let me know, okay?” Riley says and starts towards the door. And Maya thinks it will be okay.

 

But it’s not. Not even close.

 

Pizza Place is packed for some reason. Her and Lucas and Farkle (this feels too regular to say) have to push their way to the door and try to catch Antonio-at-the-pizza-counter’s attention so he’ll let them in. He does and he shoos the crowd away enough so that his three favorite customers (“Aren’t there usually two of you instead of two of him?” he says to Maya, pointing to Farkle) can make their way to the back corner booth like always.

 

The peace only last for about ten minutes.

 

“So what, you guys just barge in here? Past all those people waiting in line? And that’s okay? I don’t like it. Impolite.”

 

“No, it’s okay. We come here every week, same time same place, so it’s basically a reservation.”

 

Maya didn’t know one of those voices. But she knew the other.

 

“Riley!” “Maya!”

 

“Zay!” “Lucas!”

 

“Farkle!” Farkle stands up and looks at the four other people gaping at each other. “I’m sensing we know each other? Friends? Friends! Small world, huh?” Farkle’s babbling, obviously trying to cover up whatever tension was just created but he’s Farkle so he’s doing a terrible job.

 

“I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone—but not really because I love birds I’m not killing them—and bring my date here!” Riley’s smile fades when she looks at Maya, “But I don’t think you liked that idea.”

 

Maya’s eyes are glassy with tears threatening to spill over and she is trying so hard, _so fucking hard_ , to keep it together but she looks at Lucas when he smiles at Riley’s date like he’s the greatest person on earth and that’s how she always looks at Riley and now Lucas is turning to Riley and Maya can’t do it, she can’t do this, she knows the problem but she doesn’t know how to fix it and—

 

“Now.”

 

“Now?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

She barely chokes it out before a tear slides down her cheek and ohmygod, why is she such a fucking mess, this shouldn’t be so hard, it means nothing, why is she making it mean something, why is she letting it break her when she’s already so broken?

 

Riley grabs her hand and they run through the back door and climb up the fire escape in the back above the kitchen, their second spot in this place.

 

Hot tears are slipping down her face and Riley goes to wipe them but she stops her because she needs to get all of this shit out of her system before Riley can put her everything’s-rainbows all over it because this is not a rainbow and it’s not okay and something like this you just can’t wipe up and she needs to say it all, right now.

 

“I knew it. I knew it for a while, but if I didn’t let myself accept it then it wouldn’t be true and it wouldn’t be a problem, but it is. _I’m a problem_. Everything I do turns into a problem, Riley, and you can tell me I’m beautiful and talented and smart and amazing all you want but that doesn’t change a thing. I believe you when you tell me those things but you need to understand that I _still_ think that I’m a problem. And not that I need to fix it, because you can’t fix things like this. I don’t go around feeling sorry for myself and I don’t want you or anyone else to feel sorry for me either and that’s where I’m a problem too. Life threw me a bunch of shitty ways growing up and no matter how much you love me and love me and love me that shit sticks, Riles. And I tried so hard to not let people see that life was shitty to me that I ended up putting a barrier around myself. I’m guarded. I don’t talk, I don’t feel, I don’t care, I don’t love. Except for you and Farkle and my mom and your family. But I’m also a problem because when other people are as good to me as the rest of you, they can’t get in because of that stupid barrier. I made a lot of bad choices because I refused to feel. I made all that shit _internal_ instead of letting some of it out. Not all of it, but I should have let some. And by the time I realized it, it was too late. The wall was up and I only have the people already inside. And the biggest fucking problem with me is that now _I think I’m in love with someone_. I love him. I said it. It’s such a mess because I don’t know how I love him and I don’t know why and I don’t know if there’s a type of love that I can name it because it’s just there. And it scares the shit out of me because I tell myself I love him and it makes that wall I’ve had all my life go away. I’m a _problem_ because I recognize that wall was bad for me but it’s all I’ve ever known and that tricks me into thinking I need it. I don’t need it, I don’t want it. And I realized why I didn’t want you to meet him and it’s because Riley, you are my _everything_. And I let myself care and feel and love around him but the wall was still there. If you meet him, it’s real. The wall is really down and life’s being good to me right now so I won’t be able to put it back up. I’m scared out of my mind, Riles, because change doesn’t sit well with me and if Lucas is with you he’s automatically my everything too. And I told you I’m in love with him but it’s scary and confusing and I don’t know how I love him and I don’t think I’ll ever really know but I’m willing to figure that out now and that scares me most of all. I didn’t want you to meet him because that made whatever this is real. It made life being _good_ real. And I haven’t known that feeling in a very long time.” Maya takes sharp, ragged breaths in between her words as her tears keep falling and Riley doesn’t wipe them she just looks at her like Maya is her _everything_ too and if that’s enough to dry tears, she thinks it’s working. Maya starts to breathe a little more regularly, she opens her eyes, and loosens the death grip on Riley’s hand that she didn’t realize she had.

 

“Don’t yell at me when I say this, but, Maya, nothing is going to change.”

 

“How can you say that after I just—”

 

“I know. You made a lot of sense and things are going to change but they’re not going to _change._ ” Okay, thanks Mr. Matthews Jr., Maya needs more of an explanation. “I just met Lucas, I did, just 5 minutes ago down there, and look where we are. Me and you, up here, our spot, talking like normal. This is us, and it will always be us.”

 

“But Riley—”

 

“No. Listen. Your wall is still there. That’s why we’re talking right now. You keep things on your side of the wall and then after it gets too crowded you let some of it out to me. That’s a _normal_ wall. You got rid of that big, scary one a long time ago. You’re confusing that with what you have right now. Every person on the entire planet in every universe that Farkle’s going to discover out there to exist has one of these walls. It’s a wall of trust and compassion and confidence and strength and love. Every person we meet has to find a way over that wall. That’s _normal_. So you be best friends with Lucas, you talk to him and laugh with him and tease him and teach with him and grow with him and love him. You keep doing all those things and naturally he’ll make his way over that little, normal, human wall you’ve got. That we’ve _all_ got. I understand that you think you’re a problem. That’s something our human walls all give us too. Remember me in middle school? The beginning of high school? It’s okay, you can laugh now. I know I was such a mess. It’s not the same as the mess you’ve got—we’re all a different kind of messed up, but’s still a part of my wall.” Riley drums her fingers on the metal floor of the fire escape and Maya lifts her hand from on top of it to let her finally wipe some tears away. “I _love_ being your everything. And it would be an honor to share that title with someone who makes you go all heart-eyes and mushy and in love like Lucas does. Because that’s happiness. That’s a really good thing he’s bringing to your side of the wall. But honey, it is going to take a _lot_ more than our Friday night pizza date for him to steal my spot, okay?” Maya looks at her and laughs. “We’ve got all the time in the world for you to fall in love! It’s not going to happen in one moment. This kid, no matter how pretty his blue eyes are, is going to have to put up a fight to take my spot, alright? I don’t think he knows who he’s messing with!” Riley throws her hands up like she’s about to enter a boxing ring but her adorable giggle and bright eyes make Maya believe it’s probably made of cotton candy and fuzzy socks.

 

They hop down from their spot and start to walk back into the restaurant. Riley squeezes Maya’s hand and whispers, “I’m more than happy to share my space for the rest of forever, but if he likes pineapple on his pizza, we’re definitely going to run into some problems.”

 

“I think you’re good. But _your_ guy on the other hand…”

 

“Looks like he’s friends with yours, so even if he does, I’m gonna put up with it.”

 

“Aw, you’d let your boyfriend put pineapple on your pizza for me?”

 

“What else would best friends be good for?”

 

And when they get back to the table she hears Farkle explaining what a “bay window” is to Lucas and Riley’s date (“We come here so often that these weird telepathic best friend moments started to happen here and they needed a bay window so Antonio showed them the fire escape out back and I usually lose them for 15 minutes every week,”) and then she sees how they all light up when her and Riley sit and it feels like happiness.

 

But she also sees Lucas look at her just a second longer than the rest of them because he sees the red around her eyes and kicks her foot under the table to tell her he’s still got that lasso and she kicks him back because god, she’s such a mess for this boy, and she really likes that Riley doesn’t make him move from her seat that’s slowly becoming his because she’s at the perfect distance to secretly brush her fingers against his without anyone seeing and to whisper about Riley and her date to him but a few more people end up noticing that (and that’s how she gets locked out of her apartment for 3 minutes later, but it was worth it). And it feels like love.

 

And she looks at the five of them and realizes that best friends are good for a lot of things. And she’s very glad she has a bunch of them on her side of the wall.

 

///

 

Writing lesson plans is fucking impossible.

 

She discovers it on a Thursday night in her third week of student teaching.

 

She’s been acting almost as an assistant teacher for her time so far, and she liked it. His plans and lessons were easy to follow and they’re really really good and she likes teaching his way. It’s comfortable, it makes her feel good.

 

This, does not.

 

She’s laying upside down on her couch, her blonde curls skimming the floor and her fuzzy socks kicking in the air, some papers crumpled in her left hand and tears running down her face.

 

“I don’t wanna do it, Riley! I can’t!” She wails as her best friend hurriedly walks into the living room and tries to make a quick getaway out the door before she gets trapped into consoling her because she loves her dearly but she’s _got a date_ , “Make it stop. Please, stop.” And Riley shuts the front door with a loud sigh, because yes, she stopped, but no, she didn’t want to.

 

“Maya, I can’t make you do anything. I can’t make you _not_ do anything. At this point, if you really don’t want to do it, please don’t. I’d like to save my eardrums.” Maya tries to cry a little softer, but one look at Riley’s face and you can tell it’s doing nothing. “Seriously, I’m all out of arguments on this one. And please sit up, all the blood’s rushing to your head and I know you’re going to tell me that right now you’d love to, but I _really_ don’t want you to die.”

 

“You don’t understand!” Maya yells, but she sits up anyway, “You just don’t.”

 

“If you think I don’t understand and you’re just going to refute everything I say then why do you need me here? Oh!” Riley’s face lights up in a moment of clarity, as if her next thought could win the Nobel Prize, “Please don’t break anything, your bones included, while I’m gone.” And with no further explanation, Riley kisses her bright red cheek and runs out the door.

 

This is ridiculous, this is insane, this is stupid, so so stupid, these lesson plans are so fucking hard to write and they’re pointless and they make no sense and her life makes no sense and _she_ makes no sense and she doesn’t remember why she wanted to be a teacher in the first place.

 

Who knows how much time passed before her door opened and a very disheveled and worried-looking cowboy walked through her door.

 

That’s it. That’s why.

 

“What’s the problem? Honestly, I know I keep joking about the lasso thing, but I’m really not afraid to use it.” He runs over to the couch, the blue in his eyes a little deeper and the smirk on his lips a little crooked. Maya could honestly die.

 

“Riley sent you.” It’s a statement, not a question, because she knows what that pretty little brain of hers can come up with. She’s cute and fluffy but you don’t mess with her when emotions are involved. She just _knows._

 

“Yeah, but she didn’t tell me anything. All she said was ‘I think Maya needs you,’ and I was out.” He says, kneeling in the space between the coffee table and her head hanging upside-down off the edge of the couch (yeah, she switched positions after Riley left, did you doubt her?)

 

“You didn’t have to come.”

 

“Obviously did,” He pries the crumpled papers out of her hands and skims over them quickly, “Aw, you tried to do the lesson plans again?” She tries to nod or grunt or blink or _something_ but instead it’s just _nothing_.

 

“I keep trying, Lucas, but I can’t do them. They’re so hard, really really really.”

 

“I know they are.” That’s all he says. He doesn’t give her some big long speech and he doesn’t tell her to stop crying and _it’ll be okay_ and he doesn’t make her sit on the couch the right way and he doesn’t tell her she’s wrong for thinking that filling out this simple piece of paper could be so hard. He just lets the moment be bad, or sucky, or the worst ever. He doesn’t think they have to fix it.

 

For the first time in her life, someone isn’t trying to fix her. It makes her feel whole and all-together and not broken. Does she even have to say at this point that she loves it? (But in case you weren’t tired of it yet, she does. Really does.)

 

His thumb that’s so big compared to hers starts to brush the last tear off her cheek and all she can see is the blue of his eyes and even though she feels so good right now, she knows she wouldn’t mind having him fix some parts of her.

 

“Teach me, Mr. Friar?”

 

“That’s why they pay me.”

 

When Riley stumbles home that night with her hand in Zay’s and her eyes and her laughter way too bright for 3am she finds her blonde best friend still upside down on the couch but this time another pair of fuzzy socks are up in the air next to hers.

 

They’re still wide awake, the same kind of brightness that’s too bright for 3am lingering around them as they point up to the ceiling of their apartment, matching imaginary constellations that Maya has sworn and still swears she’ll paint up there one day and she tells Lucas that when she’s on her way to the moon she’ll make sure to grab a few real stars to add and Riley swears when she runs through the room so quick that they won’t notice her she hears him call _her_ a star.

 

She _thinks_ Zay gets lost in the kitchen, (“Why are there paints in your refrigerator?”) but she’s _certain_ her best friend is lost in the imaginary stars on their ceiling (or maybe those blue eyes she swears she doesn’t have a thing for, same thing, really).

 

By December 22nd Maya still has not written a lesson plan because they’re still so fucking hard to do even after Lucas broke it down step-by-step because she loves being a teacher but she hates being a teacher (that makes sense to no one but her own brain).

 

They really tried their hardest that night, and they almost got through one on a team effort, but she was stuck.

 

She’ll save you the sob story but she’s just so scared of failing. Life has given her every opportunity to fail and she’s taken it. All of them. It’s so easy for her to fail, that’s how so many people saw her, _see_ her, teacher after teacher writing F’s on her papers and jobs turning her away and literally _no one_ buying her artwork going on almost four years out of college. Not being able to make her dad stay. You can tell yourself all you want that these failures in life are not your fault and you can accept a whole lot of love and you can start to believe it all too but your heart and your mind have a hard time working together sometimes.

 

If she puts down being a teacher on paper they’ll realize she’s a failure and they’ll stop her from being one. She’s sure there is nothing more in the world she wants now. So the lesson plans are scary. Impossible scary.

 

Lucas promises her she won’t have to write one until they come back from winter break and she’s thankful for that. But January 4th gets closer and closer and so does her failure.

 

Except it doesn’t.

 

December 23rd is the last day of school for the year and it’s one of her favorite days to be in the classroom. No one has to learn anything because it’s winter break, let’s be real here, no one’s remembering anything, so Lucas makes them pop quiz.

 

She wants to hate it, but she just can’t because as each of the five periods he taught went by, she filled in one column of her five-day lesson plan sheet.

 

Lucas wants to take her to see the big tree after school because she talked about how she never had anyone to take her because Riley gets lost in crowds and she almost said yes because she really really wants to and _those eyes_ she’s gotta stop doing that but she’s got this heavy piece of paper in her hands that she need to type up _now._

 

So she kisses him on the cheek for being just so gosh-darn cute and amazing and wonderful and it’s like word vomit and she’s embarrassed but she doesn’t have enough time to think about it before it’s done and she’s out the door.

 

He follows her home of course.

 

He’s on a 20 minute delay because he stopped for hot chocolate which she grabs from his hand as soon as she opens to door for him and chugs half of it down before she gets back to her fingers flying across the keyboard and “oh my god, Maya, is your throat made of ice cubes I haven’t been able to take a sip of this yet it’s so hot” and she jumps up with a squeal and presses print and the ink smudges a little because she pulls it out before it’s finished but she doesn’t care because it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

 

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Friar,” she hands him the papers, a full week of professional, real-teacher-like, yes-this-is-a-big-deal lesson plans.

 

“How did you…?”

 

“Turns out the pop quiz thing is good for something, because as each class presented their thing, _I_ learned something. And I don’t do well with books and facts and words but I’ve done pretty okay with art. Those kids are a work of art, Lucas, and that speaks more to me than anything I’ve ever come across. Each day is a lesson based off of the kids,” she smiles at her paper and back up at him and she wants him to read the paper with her but he can’t seem to stop looking at her.

 

She thinks about this pop quiz, ‘warmth’ he wrote, because their heat was broken in the room and they were all pretty freaking cold in there but those smiles, god, could probably be the reason for global warming.

 

“Okay, so Monday,” she takes the first paper and holds it up, “is for my period one, who taught me that the only way to square-dance is with other people.” Their favorite thing in the world had become that little country thing they accidentally did that one day, so instead of doing the pop quiz alone, they all came together and kept their body temperatures up by skipping to their favorite square dance song and by the end of the period had a full routine that Maya is sure could win whatever kind of contest you put a square-dance into and while we’re at it probably find world peace. She loves those kids, they’re something special.

 

“Then Tuesday, period two, is my ice-skating lesson,” she does a little twirl for him and laughs as she remembers how sweet little Anna had to keep helping her stand back up because Maya is a worse klutz than Riley sometimes and the ice-skating wasn’t working out. Period one didn’t have time to put the desks back the right way, so when Henry walked in and said it looked like an ice rink was set up they all decided to roll with it. And fall with it. It wasn’t real ice so it should have been easy, it was the same classroom floor as always, but when some of the girls tried to get them to do tricks everything went downhill. Her stomach hurt from laughing more than her bottom did from falling.

 

“Wednesday, we shake things up with period four’s scuba adventure,” (“I’m still soaked. You guys owe me.”) When Tristan came in period four and Maya explained that the room was an ice-rink, he felt it necessary to point out that while chilly in here, ice would have melted by now. But Kirsten, ever the optimist, you had to love her, said that was even better, now it’s a lake and we can pretend we’re in the warmth of a summer day by the water. The kids drew plants and fish and boats to make their lake come to life and somewhere between a rendition of “Camp Rock” karaoke and surfing lessons some of the boys (with Maya’s secret approval shh) felt the lake needed to be more life-like and got a bucket of water and splashed it right over Mr. Friar’s head. When they had to get a janitor to wipe it all up, Lucas said he had just spilled a bottle of water. Or 2. Or 6. And the kids and Maya had never loved him more.

 

“Thursday is period seven, who plays the best game of hot potato I have ever experienced,” This was a good one, really. Long story short, Lucas dared Maya to steal something from the refrigerator in the teacher’s lunch room. No one really uses it for lunch, it’s mostly the wacky science teachers who need extra space for their weird experiments. So in a moment of weakness and genius (guess which part goes to who) Maya had to run over to the fridge and steal Mr. Peter’s moldy potato for a science experiment he did weeks ago. Lame dare, but also a little scary, because Mr. Peter could blow things up. Just saying. She still had it in her hands when she got back into the classroom for period 7 and the kids immediately thought that meant they’d be playing hot potato. And so they did.

 

“And last but not least, period eight, who taught me more about America than I’ve probably learned in all my years of school,” and she laughs when Lucas pretends to be hurt, because c’mon, didn’t he teach her _anything_ in the 3 months she’s been in her classroom? And yeah, he did, of course he did, but this was something really special. Little nerdy Spencer came running into the classroom saying that today is the day in history that George Washington crossed the Delaware with his troops during the Revolutionary War. And while most kids would laugh and make fun of him and do something crazy with their basically free period, they all listened to him talk about it, and Marley and Emma in the back corner related it all back to ‘warmth’ and Lucas looked like the room wasn’t big enough for how much love he had in him right now and so the kids reenacted it with the big open space (that was still a little wet from the lake incident). Maya wishes she wasn’t so busy writing down her plans because it would have made for such a beautiful picture.

 

“So I took each of these things and found a way to make them a lesson. Since they taught me something, I knew I could use them to teach something. If that made sense at all. Did it? Oh no, it probably doesn’t. It was a stupid idea, I think. I tried, at least. I thought it would work because my brain and my heart were both just like ‘yeah, Maya!’ and so…” She babbled a little at the end because it finally hit her that she really just did it, she wrote these weird lesson plans and she probably failed because nothing she ever does makes sense but then she had 2 big blue eyes looking right into her 2 glassy green ones.

 

“Just let me know if I failed now,” she says it like she knows it, but it never comes. The failing never comes.

 

Instead, the blue eyes blink and scream “YOU ARE SO BRILLIANT!” and the two big arms that go with them pick her up and spin her around in a circle and this is so cheesy it’s making her sick, or maybe she’s just dizzy from the spinning and how light her heart feels when he laughs and says her name and holds those papers in his hands like they’re made of gold and when he looks at her again Maya feels like _she’s_ made of gold.

 

“I don’t know how you do it. This is genius. These are better than plans I make. They match the textbook so perfectly. The lessons are so good and creative and fun and so smart, you are so brilliant, Maya. Best Christmas gift ever. Can I keep a copy?” He says it all in one happy breath and she’s so incredibly happy, _she’s a teacher,_ and even better an _artist_ teacher and she’s got this Huckleberry and really good hot chocolate and she’s going to see the big tree and she’s so happy.

 

“We’ve got about 20 minutes before the school offices close. Think we can make it there in time to hand these in so you can teach them January fourth?”

 

“Is that a challenge, Ranger Rick?”

 

And they’re out the door in a flash, barely stopping to get a coat for her (“I’m not letting you freeze, Maya, it’s like 2 degrees outside”) and skipping the subway because that takes forever and just flat out running down the streets to make it to the middle school. Through crowds of people, between interlocked hands (“We are so sorry, wait—Riley and Zay?”), under shop awnings and through red lights and a minute to 4:30 they’re up the steps just as Donna the nice secretary is locking the door and Maya can see she was on her way out so she tells Lucas not to bother her but he runs up to her anyway and says these really really really need to be sent in because they’re Maya’s first lesson plans and she’s the greatest student teacher on the planet and there is no way we can let these wait until after break they are so important she worked so so hard on them for so so long because lesson plans are impossible but she did it _his girl did it_ and does she not realize how HUGE this is?! And Donna only has to look at him once before she grabs the papers and unlocks the door.

 

“Does Miss Hart want to file her very first lesson plans herself?” she says with a twinkle in her eyes, like she too wrote impossible lesson plans years ago and she ushers the two of them inside (“You kids should be wearing heavier coats, it’s going to snow later!”) and takes them to the main office where all the filing cabinets used to scare Maya but now she likes them because _her papers_ are going in there.

 

She sees there is one drawer for lesson plans to be sent in for approval and one for approved plans to be given back to the teachers. She opened the second one.

 

“Wait, shouldn’t it—”

 

“Read them on the way here. Brilliant. I didn’t even really have to, I know this guy knows what he’s talking about. Don’t let him get too far away.” Maya looks at her when she says it and feels her heart grow 3 sizes bigger. She walks over hesitantly and when she doesn’t drop the papers in, because this thing still freaks her out a little, Donna adds, “Think of it like express shipping. All the most important stuff just gets mailed first. You, Miss Hart, are very important.” And with a big smile and her heart too big to carry she drops her very first lesson plans into the cabinet.

 

“You two better get out of here before it snows. And drink some hot cocoa or something to celebrate,” Donna smiles at them like she knows something they don’t and Maya usually would try to figure it out but her mind can only focus on the fact that Lucas just grabbed her hand and is pulling her out the door yelling “Thank you so much!” followed by “Hurry, we have to get to the tree soon if it’s really going to snow.”

 

It’s freezing out but those kids taught her something really important about warmth and that’s that it is warmest when it comes from love. And this, she knows, is love.

 

Lucas doesn’t get lost in the crowd like Riley because he’s so big and tall and he pushes her in front so that she can see everything first and he only lets go of her hand to hug her from behind instead and she squeals with excitement when she finally sees the big tree up close. Her whole life in New York and this is the first time. She feels like a giddy first grader, especially when Lucas makes her take a picture in front of it by herself. She doesn’t stand still long enough for him to take one because she feels like a little girl or like a tourist and every picture is blurry because they’re both laughing hysterically and her cheeks are so red and her hair is a mess and Lucas loves them _all_ and he’s going to frame one when he gets home.

 

She says Riley’s out for the night and they should totally go back to her house and watch a Christmas movie marathon in cheesy pajamas with their third round of hot chocolate and sugar cookies and he’s all in but he has to stop home first. 

 

They walk back to his apartment fast and he’s only inside for maybe 3 minutes to grab sweatpants and a little box. She has enough time though, to see a cowboy hat hanging by the door and she screams to let him know she’s going to burn it (but she doesn’t, of course, she doesn’t) and they run even faster back to her place, if that’s even possible, because it dropped a few more degrees outside, if that’s even possible.

 

When they get there, Maya preheats the oven for their sugar cookies and tells him not to burn anything while she changes into her pajamas. She rushes because she just wants so badly to get back out there but Riley calls and she has to talk to her for about fifteen minutes and she loves the girl but can we talk about the bracelet Zay got you another time, please?

 

She finally makes it out after _pinky promising_ that she’d save her at least 4 cookies and would wait for her to watch _Love, Actually_ and when she walks into the living room, all the lights are off and two big feet are sticking up from the couch.

 

“Saved you a spot. Stargazing.”

 

She runs to the couch and positions herself upside down, their heads nearly touching and her arm around his because she says she doesn’t want him to fall off like a dumb cowboy, but really she just wants an excuse to be near him.

 

When she looks up at the ceiling, it lights up. Stars are glowing all over, and not just imaginary ones in her head. Real, glowing, magical, (plastic, glow-in-the-dark with fake sticky glue on the back from the toy store), bright, beautiful stars are on her ceiling.

 

She thinks they should watch _The Grinch_ because she can still feel her heart growing, if that’s even possible, because she loves him so much, she knows it and she loves it. His big feet block some of the stars and they’re a little lopsided and screwy but she loves them just as much as she loves him. Which is a whole lot. Like, a galaxy a lot. The stars look like her and feel like her, scattered but whole when you see them in the right light. And this lighting, it’s perfect.

 

“There’s some more in the box. Wanted to save some for you to put up. If you can reach, that is.”

 

“Is that a challenge, Ranger Rick?”

 

///

 

She sells her first painting to Lucas’s mom on the Friday after her fourth week of writing lesson plans.

 

It’s the beginning of February and the city air isn’t going easy on the weather but Maya’s stubborn so she refuses to wear any jacket heavier than the worn-out navy blue sweater Farkle bought her for her 19th birthday (that Riley definitely picked out) and Lucas wasn’t going to let that fly.

 

“You can’t be serious with that thing, Maya. It’s exactly 16 degrees outside, not including wind chill—”

 

“What are you, the weatherman?”

 

“Yeah, surprise, teach the class by yourself because I’m switching to a career in meteorology. Check me out on Good Morning America tomorrow,” he says with an eye roll as they walk down the hallways after the last bell on Friday night.

 

“Good Morning America, really?”

 

“It’s my mama’s favorite. Watched it every morning. Still does.”

 

“Mama?” Maya gapes and tries to stifle her laugh, (but she doesn’t, of course, she doesn’t) and she thinks she could be happy forever because _what a cowboy._ “You make it too easy! I don’t even have to try anymore.”

 

Lucas just shakes his head because he can’t win, he’ll never win with her, but she’s pretty sure he likes it, because his blue eyes twinkle a little more whenever she laughs. She’s pretty sure _she_ likes _that_.

 

They reach the doors to the entrance of the school and she opens it, a sarcastic remark on the tip of her tongue, but as soon as the wind of the brisk air hits her, it freezes. Like an icicle. And so does she.

 

“Holy shit, Lucas you didn’t tell me it was that cold!”

 

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you right now. I did. At least eight times.”

 

“You did not say it was _that_ cold.”

 

“Whatever, just take the extra jacket I brought from my classroom because _I told you_ it was cold and put it on. I don’t want to hear another word.” He says, and it’s not as much stern and I told you so as sad little puppy and Maya knows her heart burst a long time ago but just for good measure she’ll say she’s feeling some aftershock.

 

“You’re the bestest.”

 

“That’s not a word. Go get us a cab.”

 

She could kiss him. She really honestly could.

 

She has trouble finding them a cab at first, but her bright blonde hair blowing in the wind has to be good for something because eventually she gets one and they both run into it, tripping over each other’s feet and laughter in the race from the nice lady’s umbrella to the warm car. She doesn’t know when it happened, but somehow it’s decided they’ll both be going back to Lucas’s apartment and she’s not sure if that fact warmed her up or the heat blasting in the cab.

 

It starts to snow when they get out on his block, small flurries at first but when they’re inside she see’s that it’s amounted to big clumps of snow in a matter of seconds.

 

“Hope you like Food Network and knitting.”

 

“Why’s that, Huckleberry?”

 

“Because it looks like you’re going to be stuck here for the night. And so is my _mama.”_

 

She’s not going to like this snowstorm.

 

Lucas’s mom is there. Oh, she is there all right. Lucas doesn’t even have the time to take out his keys before his door is flung open and a bright, bouncy lady has him in her arms. (“Oh my god, Luke, I didn’t know if you’d make it back before the storm hit!” “I told you to wear better shoes. They said on Good Morning America…” “I was going to make you some cornbread but your kitchen is a mess and you have nothing good for me, I’m trying to improvise.”) It takes a few more motherly stumblings and an apron around her waist before she notices Maya.

 

“Oh! Lucas, why didn’t you tell me there was someone else here?”

 

“You were rambling and I just couldn’t stop you. Besides, I told her you’d be here.”

 

“Oh, goodness. Did you tell her I like Food Network and knitting? The poor girl probably thinks I’m crazy,” she looks at Maya, and almost apologetically adds, “I don’t know why he always does that. Food Network is shit, I haven’t watched that since he was a baby when he would make me sit through those ridiculous Guy Fieri shows. And knitting’s not something I plan to do until I’m dead. Maybe not even then. It’s _this_ guy you have to watch out for. _Such_ a Boy Scout. 18 years I was legally responsible for him, now, I could not tell you why I’m still here. Must be the southern charm,” She says with a chuckle and he throws another apron at her. “Now, you’ve _got_ to stay through the snow, but after that, from personal experience I’m telling you…” and she motions across her neck with a tight smile across her lips.

 

“I think you and me are going to be much better friends than Lucas and I.” Lucas’s mom beams and is across the room in two quick steps to put Maya in a tight squeeze of a hug. She smells like powdered sugar and hairspray and Maya loves it, she thinks they should make a candle out of it, and when she catches Lucas out of the corner of her eye she silently mouths, ‘I love her’ and all he can do is smack his palm to his forehead to defeat.

 

She thinks she’s going to like this snowstorm after all.

 

Lucas’s mom quickly picks up the apron Lucas threw at her and makes Maya put it on because, “An apron makes anything more comfortable. And those pants look dreadful. What lovely boss makes you wear those?”

 

“That would be your son.” Maya chuckles out, tightening the pink fabric in a knot around her waist. Wait, yeah this _is_ more comfortable.

 

Her face lights up in a moment of clarity and, “Oh my goodness. _You’re his girl_!” And Maya’s smile is so bright because yes, yep, that’s her, she’s _his girl_ , and she’s not used to being on this end of it but she realizes she _loves_ seeing Lucas’s cheeks glow a bright red and he runs out of the living room super fast (“Oh god, just let me know when whatever you’re baking is ready,”) and she’s going to keep saying it forever and ever and ever _she’s his girl_ and she hates labels but this doesn’t feel like one it just feels like _them_ and it feels like _love_ and she really likes Lucas’s mom.

 

She’s the nicest woman Maya has ever met (aside from Riley’s mom and that lady who let them use their umbrella today, maybe). Her eyes aren’t as bright blue as Lucas’s but Maya still loves to look at them when they talk. She’s so easy to talk to. She asks her all about teaching and Maya answers, truthfully and wholly, and it feels really good. She likes telling stories about her first day teaching her own lesson and how the kids sometimes draw her pictures and she hangs them up by her desk in the back but she can’t wait to have a real teacher’s desk so she has an actual spot to put all the stuff from her kids and how she’d buy a big calendar like one of those giant mat-like ones that take up the desk so she can fill in all the days and write down the kids’ birthdays and Lucas’s mom says she’ll help her bake cookies and “would you look at the time! Ours have just finished right now!”.

 

They call Lucas back in when they take the cookies out of the oven and his furrowed brow from grading papers instantly lifts when he sees the tray fresh out of the oven.

 

“You guys are the bestest,” He says, devouring a cookie in one bite.

 

“That’s not a word.” Maya looks back at him and he only flashes her that crooked grin on the right side of the corner of his mouth before taking another one.

 

“Wanna put the stickers on?”

 

The night passes quickly, as both Maya and Lucas’s mom get the stickers done in rapid time (teamwork!) and are on the couch in their comfy aprons that smell like cookie dough and they eat every last cookie while watching TLC. Lucas groans about it (“you two are going to take over my life.”) but they know he secretly likes it when he casts his own ballot in their _Four Weddings_ vote and he groans in disappointment that Melissa didn’t win the honeymoon.

 

Riley calls sometime after six and makes them promise that they’ll eat pizza to make up for the missed pizza night (she already called Farkle, and Zay’s with her, what a surprise). Lucas’s mom says no pizza place is going to deliver in this blizzard but she does makes a mean pizza and Lucas agrees so Maya has to go with it and how convenient that they still had their aprons on.

 

Her eyes start to feel droopy sometime after 8 and she’d hate it but she finally feels like a real-life adult who gets home from work and kicks off their shoes and watches trashy TV shows before passing out on the couch at a too-early (and very uncool) hour. When her head finds a spot on Lucas’s shoulder and all he does is snuggle in a little closer, she thinks she’s gonna like the whole adulting thing. She thinks she’s gonna like it a lot.

 

When she wakes up she smells the cookie dough apron and Lucas.

 

The streetlamp by the window catches the white of the still-falling snow. Things move slowly, peacefully, as if everything takes just a second longer than it does in the real world for these few moments. She feels her toes stick out from the end of a blanket thrown haphazardly across her and the human-pillow she’s taken a comfortable cuddle into. Her head in between the couch cushion and his shoulder rises and falls with the pace of his quiet breathing, like an unspoken lullaby. She still has her apron on and it still smells like powdered sugar, probably because the scent is also steadily wafting from the kitchen behind her, methodical sizzling and cracking and whirring coming from another apron not unlike her own. She knows he’s awake because two of his fingers are twirling a piece of her hair that’s sticking up a little too much. She doesn’t let anything move except for his breath and the kitchen, because she knows he’s awake and he probably knows that she is too but if neither of them acknowledge it then the snow can fall for as long as forever.

 

But then from the kitchen she hears, “Oh shit, I think I burnt it!”

 

And from beside her, “If she had just watched some more Food Network...”

 

There are a lot of things in life that come with exceptions. Rules are never so definitive as to apply to everyone and everything in all circumstances in every place ever. She knows it her whole life, how things work and why things happen and it’s hard to think that life has good exceptions for you when it’s been bad exception after bad exception for so long but she’s waited, oh she has waited, and she’s sure, so sure, that Lucas is her good exception.

 

The moment was good in the light of the night snowfall while everything was still and in the world, any world, when something broke the stillness of a perfect moment it was gone. But Lucas was her good exception.

 

She almost moved to sit up but he let her stay, like he didn’t want her to leave, and love or no love, staying’s something Maya Hart doesn’t get a lot of. So she stayed, and his fingers still twirled her hair and the kitchen was alive like she’d always wanted her kitchen to be and the meteorologist on the static TV screen was hard to make out but she thinks he said it’d snow through the night and you couldn’t get on the roads until at the earliest late tomorrow and her heart grew a few more sizes and the snow was still falling and the bright white light was still there.

 

She could kiss him. She really honestly could.

 

Maya learns a lot of things that night when they eat their burnt homemade pizza around the kitchen table (like a family, Maya loves it). Lucas and his mom moved from Texas when Lucas was starting 6th grade because the gap in their wholesome little southern family was getting too big to live across and it wasn’t fair that Lucas was stuck in the middle, you could get lost in a gap like that, (Maya thinks she’s fallen into a few gaps herself,) so they decided to make the gap as big as it could possibly get and put it on paper. And his dad got a condo in Austin and his mom got a plane ticket to New Jersey and without even waiting for papers Lucas ran right onto the plane with his mom. The papers came eventually and it took her a while to sign them. _He_ came to the east coast a few times and tried to take them away but she’d tuck them in her apron when he shoved them at her before she’d cook dinner and say later later _later_ and eventually he’d leave and she’d try to sign them again. But it was hard to make a gap when it already felt like the gap you had was enough. She signed them the day before Lucas’s last day of middle school and she didn’t get much money but she got a whole lot of love and two rooms in her sister’s suburban house and _her son_. And that and her apron was good. But no mater how half-full you see life, Lucas and his mom needed a lot of help in the life department. They got it, they were really lucky. Lucas got a lot of clothes and socks and a phone and baseball bats and friendship and _love_ from Zay ever since his first day of school in NJ. Lucas liked to help his little cousins with their homework all the time and that’s how he knew he wanted to be a teacher, he just knew it. But he’s brilliant, he’s a genius, and he got a scholarship to Columbia teacher’s college and he was going places. But the best place he found was John Quincy Adams Middle School and everyone thought he was going to go big places but _that place,_ that school, no matter what anyone else thought, was the only place he ever wanted to be. It was his good exception. He knew it when he started his first day of student teaching in Mr. Matthews’ history class and he’d never been so sure of anything in his life. All he wanted to do ever and forever was watch his mama bake cookies and be a teacher. So that’s what he did. He commuted at first but that was a hassle so when he saved up some money he bought an apartment and he missed him mom who still lived in her sister’s house. It’s her favorite place in the world besides anywhere Lucas was, so she comes up to the city to see him once a month and stays for a week (sometimes more!) (like today’s visit) (which will probably last a week now). It was the way the universe made his life happen and he knows what it’s like for things to be bad, or sucky, or the worst ever. And he was okay with waiting for things to get fixed on their own.

 

She could kiss him. She really honestly could.

 

And since she’s on the good exception thing, Maya decided her heart can handle it to tell him those things he’s been waiting to hear since the very first day she walked into his classroom. It’s a little messy, a lot messy actually, but she’s never felt so whole and full and not-broken as she has when she looked into his bright blue eyes when she told him, and how he did that thing with his thumb when there was a tear on her cheek and his mom made them hot chocolate. She liked him a lot more _, loved_ him a lot more, with him on _this_ side of the wall, if that’s even possible (it probably isn’t but she pretends it is anyways, it’s much more fun to love _this_ much).

 

She needs to paint. That’s what she needs to do. Luckily, she had some art supplies with her for the lesson she was teaching, so she sets up shop on the little table by the TV, with just a book to prop up her little canvas and a “world’s best teacher” mug of water for her brushes.

 

She finishes the painting sometime just after midnight and the snow’s still falling and the light is a little darker but the peace is just as perfect and _still_ as it was before, with Lucas’s mom reading in the kitchen and Lucas behind her on the couch, upside down, watching Food Network (what a dork this guy, really) because all of them are awake on love and can’t be bothered to sleep just yet.

 

“All finished,” Maya says in triumph, scooting onto the couch to look at her masterpiece and expecting to feel Lucas squished up behind her but she doesn’t, it’s just couch and she looks up to see him on the phone running towards his room.

 

He pulls the phone away from his face for a second to whisper to her with an apologetic look, “It’s the principal, I gotta take it. I’ll be back in just a sec,” and he runs out of the room. Lucas’s mom comes over and fills the spot on the couch, eyeing Maya’s piece carefully.

 

“How do you do it?” She asks, sincerely, as if she’s amazed by what she sees and needs to understand it. Maya starts to explain the paint and brushes and the canvas but she cuts her off, “No I mean, how do you _do_ it— _see that._ It’s incredible.”

 

So Maya thinks about it. She doesn’t know how she sees it, it’s really just her life.

 

It starts with the yellow flowers in the corner. A patch of them, wild and high and messy but together. Because yellow’s her favorite color. Everything is better when it’s yellow. There’s a few long and waxy leaves that spring up between them, reaching higher and higher to the blue sky as you move across the picture. Green for her eyes.

 

A few of the yellow flowers wrap around tall purple ones, complimentary colors for her complimentary person.

 

More than half the canvas is sky, a big blue sky. The color wasn’t easy to make, she found out, it took a lot of mixing, and it dances across the painting, in swirls and waves, like an ocean in the sky. It dips into the flowers just a little, here and there.

 

There are a million white dots that sprinkle the sky, some big and some small, some shooting and some connected in a perfect constellation. They’re warm, so much warmth, they need each other in a galaxy that tries to keep them apart. They’re the stars, her stars, his stars, their stars.

 

The moon is her favorite part because she’s still working it out. A few yellow petals and one blue resting on the top of it.

 

She doesn’t know how she sees it, she just does, because her life looks better in art than in the world.

 

But all she can say is, “It’s a lot of things really. They all just work together.”

 

“Brilliant. Can I buy it?”

 

“My painting?”

 

“I’d buy _you_ if I could, but right now, yes, the painting.” She laughs a little and looks at her again, “How much do you usually sell these for?”

 

Maya gapes. Someone wants to buy her painting. _She can be an artist._

 

She chokes out between quick breaths something like, “I’ve never sold anything before. I mean, I’ve tried for years, but it’s no good, what I make, at least not out there in the real world so I’m going to be a teacher—”

 

“Nonsense. I mean, you’re a brilliant teacher, I’m sure, but this is beautiful. The people in New York are blind. Lucky for you I’m from Texas and New Jersey. Probably a little blind somewhere but not with this.” She smiles that warm and fuzzy and mama-bear smile that Maya has fallen in love with seeing so quickly and pulls money out of her wallet, “Let me be your first buyer. It would be an honor.” She places the bills in Maya’s hand, telling her to take it (but she doesn’t, of course, she doesn’t) and Maya has learned that Lucas’s mom is very mom-like and she’s not taking ‘no’ for an answer so she wraps Maya’s fingers over hers and then slips her hand out and just like that Maya sold her first painting.

 

_She’s an artist._

 

Lucas and his bright blue eyes come running back into the room just as Lucas’s mom leaves with her new painting.

 

_And she’s a teacher._

“I’m going to kill him one day, I swear. Zay changed his name in my phone to the principal’s name,” he shakes his head and flops onto the couch next to her, _right_ next to her (oh the warmth!!!). “So, Riley might have a boyfriend with a black eye next time I see him. Or at least a bruised ego. Anyway, where’s the painting? I’m ready to be dazzled.”

 

“Your mom just bought it,” Maya says, beaming, because she loves the way it sounds rolling off her tongue, someone _bought_ her painting.

 

“She beat me to it!”

 

“I could always do another one. Just for you.” (And she likes where she’s going to go with this, cowboy, you haven’t made her _all_ mushy yet.)

 

“Oh, you have another canvas—wait.” Lucas begins, but when he sees her eyes, he knows, he _knows_ , he’s back to the never winning phase of this thing they have.

 

“Well, you see, Huckleberry, I started with some yellow flowers…” And Maya picked up her paintbrush, dipped it in some yellow paint, and _smeared it_ across Lucas’s left cheek (“ohhhh nooo, you did not just do that, Maya Hart…). “There were a lot of them!” and she does it again, painting dots of yellow and “Sit still I need to put some leaves!” but he’s squirming trying to get away from her brush and the two of them can’t stop laughing and they’ve moved positions on the couch at least 6 times in the last five seconds.

 

She’s a good artist though, and she gets him, she gets him good—especially when she starts on the sky. She swirls blue on his forehead and it’s nothing like his eyes when she looks straight into them because she pinned him to the couch because he won’t stay still(!!!). But before she even knows what’s happening he says, “you know I’m a pretty good painter too,” and he has a paintbrush from the table with purple and he gets it right across her nose and _oof_ does he know who he just messed with, cowboy has it coming.

 

“This is war, Friar.” And she can tell he’s accepted because he reloads his paintbrush and tries to get her again, but she’s too quick—she’s around the other side of the couch, so he flicks it and paint splatters everywhere(!!!). She’s back to the table in time to get some red paint and splash it across his right arm, he streaks white down her neck. She abandons the paint brush and decides to squirt the tube at him instead and it’s in his hair, it’s in her hair, she jumps over the couch, he splashes her with some blue, oh god it _had_ to be the blue, and she can’t stop laughing, like that good and beautiful kind of laugh that she’s sure is the reason the Earth spins and the universe exists and it’s definitely why he exists because he’s so good, he’s her good exception.

 

There’s paint everywhere, on the floor, on the couch, their clothes, their faces, but they can’t stop, it’s almost 1am and this rainbow is infectious. She jumps on the couch and he jumps with her and the paint is flying, rapid spots of red and green and blue and black and pink tickle her and color her and what a good exception. This is art, this is love.

 

She doesn’t know how long they’re at it, color after color after laugh after smile after eyes after color after love and eventually she can’t find anymore paint to smear him with so she has this terrible terrible thought.

 

Her lips are smeared in yellow and his are smeared in blue and she really really wants to make green and what a terrible terrible thought she’s having because she could kiss him. She really honestly could.

 

And her track record with boys sucks and her love life sucks and this feeling sucks and her life sucks, she’s a mess, her life is a mess, if this mess is any indication, and she’s stuck. That’s always how it’s been.

 

But maybe she’s been confusing _stuck_ for _still,_ because still moments are perfect, and maybe the way she fell on the couch right now so close to his face isn’t being _stuck,_ it’s just a perfect _still_.

 

And screw it, if he’s her good exception, she wants to make it a perfect exception.

 

So she kisses him. She really honestly does.

 

It tastes like paint and burnt pizza and laughter and happiness and _god why did she wait so long._ This is the most perfect exception the world has to offer. The rest of the universe is severely unlucky because she got Lucas Friar and she’s _kissing him_ and she’s sure she’s the only person in this moment doing so. What a sap.

 

She looks at his eyes when it stops and it’s good because it feels like it _doesn’t stop_ because that’s how good exceptions work, she’s discovered. Moments don’t stop. He’s twirling a piece of her messy blonde curls in between his fingers and all she can see is the blue of his eyes that she got lost in at the beginning of October when she walked into his classroom that’s now become hers too.

 

His lips are a little green. What a work of art.

 

“You owe me a new couch,” is the first thing he says, the moment still happening with his little smirk and a twinkle in his blue eyes.

 

“Lucky for you, I am a newly paid artist, so I think that can be arranged,” She says, an equally smirky smirk on her lips that she just wants to make green again.

 

“That’s my girl.”

 

She can’t wait to watch Good Morning America in the morning.

 

///

 

Riley broke up with Maya at the beginning of March.

 

No, she’s not being dramatic, she’s Maya Hart—okay, so maybe a little dramatic, but it was basically like a break up.

 

She thinks she should have seen it coming, but it was hard to notice at first because after almost two decades with the girl, this was just how Riley was. Maya was used to it. But her incessant stumbling over her words and her own two feet started to become a _thing._ And Maya wasn’t used to _things._

The first time she really noticed it was when she was leaving a Thursday night pizza dinner (they couldn’t do Friday this week because Farkle had some sciency-businessy convention thingy that probably had a long acronym that Maya couldn’t be bothered to remember but it sounded smart and important).

 

They were all finished and just about ready to go, but as these things always went they’d end up sitting there in the booth and talking for about another hour or two. And Maya loved it, really, she did, but not the night before she had the principal of the school coming to observe her teaching a class. She decided it would be in the best interest of everyone involved (no one wanted to see a cranky Maya) for her to bow out a little early.

 

She stood up from her seat, grabbed her purse, waved and hugged (and kissed when no one was looking, shhh!) her goodbyes and said “Okay, Riles, I’ll see you at home?”

 

Who knew that last part would be the problem?

 

“ _Home_?” Riley questioned, fidgeting in her seat very nervously.

 

Maya looked at her, her face all scrunched up and confused-annoyed and said, “Did you fall on your head when I wasn’t looking, or something? Yes, our _home._ You know, that place with a door, we have keys to open it, we’ve got beds and a couch and our names are on the little mail slot?”

 

“That’s our apartment.”

 

“Yeah, it’s our place. Are you sure you’re okay?”

 

“Home doesn’t have to be our place, you know.”

 

“Where else would home be?”

 

“I mean, technically she’s got a point, home isn’t like _a place,_ it could be like a feeling or like people or something,” Lucas interjects.

 

“Alright, Ranger Rick, I don’t know what they taught you on the ranch in Texas, but—”

 

“They don’t teach that in Texas. That’s Kansas. You ever seen _The Wizard of Oz_?” Zay says. (“Oh, we should watch that at our next movie night!” “Shut up Farkle.”)

 

“Maya, I just had to clarify, I mean, home is just such a vague word to use for that apartment.”

 

“That apartment, huh? Okay, I’m leaving to go to _that apartment_ that we conveniently keep all our belongings in a pay for every month and put as our address on legal documents and get our online shopping shipped to and sleep in every night, and oh yeah, _where we live_. Hope I catch you there. In passing, maybe, if I’m lucky.” Maya shrugs her shoulders sarcastically, flips her blonde hair behind her, and storms out.

 

They don’t ever talk about it again. Not even when Riley comes home—to the apartment—later that night.

 

The next time she noticed something was after Taco Tuesday at Lucas’s. It was 10:30 and Maya’s eyelids were drooping because the early mornings were starting to catch up with her and her feet couldn’t follow. They walked up the steps to their apartment (the stupid elevator keeps breaking, Maya’s shoes weren’t made for this shit) and thank god Riley’s not a morning or a night, she’s just an an every-time person, because the only thing getting Maya up the steps was her grip on Riley’s arm.

 

As wide awake as ever, Riley wanted to stop and look at every apartment door on every floor they walked past. And they lived on the 14th floor. Maya wouldn’t have been in the mood for it if it were the 2nd floor.

 

“Oh look at this one, Maya, it’s a red door, we always wanted a red door.”

 

“Riley, I need to sleep.”

 

“One more floor, hun. Look at the doors to keep you awake.”

 

“The only door I want to see is ours.”

 

“Ours?”

 

“Our door. Keep up. 14th floor, here we come.”

 

“It’s not really _our_ door, Maya.”

 

“Yeah it is. Has been for four years. We tack papers to the back, you hang a wreath on it in December, we wait by it before Halloween, I probably peed on it once, it’s our door.” (“eww, Maya, eww.”)

 

“We rent it, we don’t own it.” Riley says.

 

“Same thing.”

 

“Not really.”

 

“What’s up with you?” Maya raised her eyebrows really high, both in questioning and in hopes to keep her eyes open a little longer. “I’ve been half asleep for most of this little door-gazing trip, but I know something’s up. Spill.”

 

“Nothing, it’s nothing. Really. Really really, Maya. Just looking at the doors. Don’t you like looking at them? I love looking at the doors.”

 

“Oh my god, you’re babbling. You’re always hiding something when you babble.”

 

“I am _not._ ”

 

“Seriously, Riles.” Maya straightens up and looks her in the eyes (stay open, stay open, _stay open!!)_

 

“I just think we should buy one.”

 

“Buy what? A door?”

 

“A home.”

 

“What’s wrong with ours?”

 

“It’s a rental apartment. Not a home.”

 

“Not this again, Riley—”

 

“Look. Here we are,” Riley lets go of her arm to unlock the door. She’s lucky Maya’s eyes are already shut when she stumbles into the apartment because that means she can’t argue the point any further. She wants to say ‘home sweet home’ but Riley’s dodgy and vague questions are making it harder to do.

 

She reaches her breaking point the next Saturday. She and Riley and are in Farkle’s office waiting for him to finish his emergency meeting and playing tic-tac-toe on his huge whiteboard (Maya accidentally erases part of a long formula she thinks he had up there in her fit of anger after Riley beat her for the fourth time in a row and she hopes it wasn’t really important). His meeting was seriously cutting into their monthly friendship-aversary adventure through Times Square and his tiny office didn’t leave much room for the two very bored girls.

 

Farkle comes back into his office to find Club Penguin on his computer screen, his test tubes stacked in a row and pushed over like dominoes, and paper airplanes littering every inch of the floor. He flips his cushy black swivel chair back to right-side-up and sits back in it with a sigh.

 

“Long day in the office?” Maya says sarcastically with a smirk.

 

“Only longer with you two here.”

 

“C’mon, we’ve gotta go soon or we’re going to be late for those shirtless guys breakdancing.” Riley says, straightening up the room.

 

“Woah there, Riles, you’ve got a boyfriend.”

 

“So do you.”

 

“Do not.”

 

“Oh, speaking of your boyfriend,” (“Oh my god, you guys, he’s not, _we’re not._ ”) Farkle says and stands up from his chair. “He’s coming. I need another vote against the Toys R Us this time around so I’m dragging him along. He’ll be here in five minutes.”

 

“Are you kidding? I asked him to come last month and he told me no.” Maya scrunches her eye brows and takes Farkle’s place sunken in his chair.

 

“Guess we know who he likes more?” Farkle says triumphantly as he starts to rewrite the formula Maya erased (yeah, it was important).

 

“Oh really, Farkle, did Lucas kiss you too?” Riley bats her eyelashes and she’s lucky she’s cute because ohmygod she did _not_ just do that. (“You just broke like every girl code and friendship rule and ring power law.”)

 

“God, I hope not—wait… Oh my god, you guys kissed!” Farkle’s head flips sharply to Maya, his eyes as wide as his grin. “No way. That’s it, Maya, you’re in for it now.”

 

“No, stop, please stop,” She’s shaking her head and curling into a ball in the chair as it spins around but she’s not denying it. That makes the friendly harassment even worse.

 

“How’d he do it?” “Was it once or twice or like second base?” “Is he gonna take you on a date?” “Were there fireworks?” “Did you accidentally hit teeth?” “Ew, that happens?” “I got a bloody lip once from a kiss.” “Did the world stop spinning?” “Do you guys like, hold hands and stuff?” “I bet they make out in the faculty room.” “Gross. But also cute.” “Maya definitely pretends to sign papers as Maya Friar.” “Okay then, when’s the wedding?” “I want a child named after me.” “Do we really need another human on this earth named Farkle, the poor child.” “Fine, middle name.”

 

“Oh my god, are we in high school?” Maya huffs as she listens to them banter.

 

“Physically no, but mentally, probably stuck in kindergarten.” Farkle says with a shrug.

 

“Oh, you know what kids do in Kindergarten…” Riley has a mischievous smirk on her face and Farkle looks like he knows what’s going to happen next and Maya thinks she knows too when she hears Farkle clear his throat but she’s just not prepared for it. She hates friends and she hates boys and she hates this all (but she thinks she still likes kissing).

 

“Maya and Lucas sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G…” her two friends skip around the room singing the same line over and over again, and it’s the longest five minutes of her life listening to them before Lucas gets there.

 

Stupid office has top-to-bottom clear windows. Lucas saw even before he walks in and he knows, _oh he knows_.

 

“Oh, not you guys too,” he shoots an exasperated look at Maya, “The sitting in a tree song?” She nods. “Zay was just singing it to me over the phone.” He shakes his head and throws his hands up in defeat.

 

“I guess we’ll just have to give them what they want, huh, Huckleberry?” Maya says, her good idea sounding even better when she stands up and looks at the cowboy because, thing or no thing, his blue eyes and messy hair and ugly teacher clothes are hot. Someone stop her. 

 

“Guess so.” He steps closer to her, and starts singing, “Maya and Lucas sitting in Farkle’s science lab, K-I-S-S—” And just before their lips are centimeters apart, their two friends step right through them, pushing them apart, eyes closed and screaming “Ew ew ew ew no, we don’t want to see it, really don’t want to see it. Let’s go.” And they’re out the door.

 

“…I-N-G,” Maya finishes and jumps up on her tip-toes to plant a sloppy kiss on his lips and drag him by the hand out the door. It’s gross and mushy and she’s a mess for this boy. She loves it.

 

They make it to times square just before sunset and meet up with Zay (because they have so easily and permanently become 5 now).

 

They make it in time for the shirtless street dancers and the show is fun every time they come see it, but this time, they want a volunteer from the audience and a set of very beautiful abs drags Maya out against her shaking her head and screaming nonono and skidding her feet to stop her from getting out there.

 

But she’s out there, and it’s harmless but she still feels like throwing up (but she doesn’t, of course, she doesn’t). The dancers position her in the middle of their performance space and one by one they run and jump over her—in splits and toe touches and flips. (“They only picked you because they knew you were easy to get over, you know, being such a shortstack,” Lucas later says to her and she likes him so much she almost doesn’t feel like punching him, almost).

 

When she wasn’t busy trying to not pee her pants or squinting her eyes shut, Maya saw Riley through her laughter taking pictures and recording the whole thing. When they started walking to their next stop, Maya tried to grab Riley’s phone so she could see (delete) all the horribly embarrassing pictures she’d gotten. But when she went for Riley’s phone, she jerked it away really fast.

 

“Hey, lemme see, I just want to see the pictures.”

 

“No, you can’t.”

 

“Why not?” Maya laughs, and she thought at first Riley just didn’t want Maya to be able to delete them, but now she’s all quiet and dodgy again, like there’s something she really doesn’t want her too see. “C’mon, I just lived through a life-or-death experience, I deserve it.” Maya breaks out the puppy dog eyes and for the first time in her 20 years of friendship, they don’t work.

 

“No, you—you can’t, I’ll just… I’ll, I don’t know, I’ll send them to you later.” Riley stuffs her phone into her pocket and crosses to the other side of the group, away from Maya. What’s up? She doesn’t like this.

 

After a half hour in Toys R Us (Farkle’s plan didn’t account for Zay’s vote, and 3-to-2, they had to go in), the gang decides that they’re hungry and all they’re really in the mood for is the Pizza Place pizza. Only problem is, they’re not too sure how to get there from here.

 

Maya looks up directions on her phone and starts to explain them, but when she mentions one street they’ll have to walk down, Riley freezes.

 

“Are you sure that’s it? That doesn’t sound right.” She says frantically.

 

“Says right here that’s how we’ll have to get there.” Maya holds up the phone and Farkle by her side nods approvingly. “C’mon, you love the building on that street. You always like to look in the windows and guess what all the families are doing in their homes.”

 

“Homes, right. Uhh, maybe we should take another street. It’s probably really… busy, yeah, lots of traffic. Let’s try this way.” And Riley grabs Zay’s hand and starts to drag him in the opposite direction, she starts whispering something to him and she doesn’t look too happy about it, and the other three of them don’t know what else to do but follow.

 

The pizza is so good that Maya almost forgets about Riley’s sudden outbursts. They laugh and talk and eat until they physically can’t move and she hates to admit it but maybe home can be a place _and_ some people.

 

“Okay, well, I hate to be the party pooper but it’s after midnight and once again I feel like I might pass out right here on this table.” Maya says, getting ready to leave.

 

“Good plan. Are we still on for Sunday family dinner?” Farkle says, joining her.

 

“Yeah, where are we going to have that this week? I think my place is still trashed from the last one.” Lucas sighs and warily eyes Riley and Zay, remembering how their dessert plans _literally_ blew up in the kitchen.

 

“It was a really good try, I think we’re going to get it right this time.” Zay says.

 

“I don’t want to see chocolate in my kitchen ever again. I’m still finding it on the floor and in corners. You can try whatever the heck you want in your _own_ home.”

 

At that split second, Maya’s eyes drift towards Riley and she sees her tense up at the statement. Yeah, the mess was bad, but it was kind of funny-bad. So she doesn’t know why Riley’s all freaked-out all of a sudden.

 

Is this what Riley feels like all the time when she sees Maya and all her messed up problems, just sad and confused and worried for her best friend, is this why she nags until she figures it out, why she needs to fix everything? Because that’s how Maya feels looking at Riley right now. And it sucks.

 

Maya doesn’t hear the next few lines of conversation. Everything around her goes a blurry kind of quiet until all that’s left is Riley’s sad eyes.

 

And in a split second, the world erupts.

 

“I’m moving out!” Riley screeches wildly and stands up from her chair.

 

“What?” Maya barely chokes out, the words not hitting her until Riley sits back down and tries to pick her eyes up, but she can’t. That hurts.

 

“I can’t do it anymore. I just couldn’t, Maya. I’m buying a home on that street with Zay and I’m moving out of our apartment. I had pictures on my phone and I tried to get you not to see them and then I didn’t want to walk down that street… I wanted to tell you buts it’s been so hard, and I just, I mean—”

 

“You wanted to, huh? Great, that means a lot, this big piece of news you just drop on me out of nowhere and I’m probably the last to know, right? Farkle definitely knows, he’s like the only one here who can keep a secret so you’d tell him first, and I’m sure Zay understands the rules of best friends and told Lucas first thing.”

 

“I knew you’d just get mad. I’ve been figuring out a way to tell you so that you wouldn’t but it was eating me up on the inside.”

 

“I wonder why!” She screams and she can’t believe they’re doing this in the middle of a restaurant at midnight with other people watching. They only ever talk like this in the bay window, or their fire escape. Alone. It doesn’t feel real, maybe she’s just asleep. She notices that she’s shaking, physically trembling in her seat and Lucas grabs her hand. Not asleep. Nope.

 

“Is this why you’ve been so weird with the home thing lately? Because I really can’t understand what’s so wrong with ours!” Maya tries to say in a quieter tone but her anger just builds up again and her words get louder and louder.

 

“That’s not a _home_ , Maya.”

 

“And that cookie-cutter, magazine-ready, _box_ you’re going to get is?”

 

“Where we live _right now_ is a box. It’s like, 2 by 2. You can reach the kitchen table from the couch. The bathroom might as well be in our bedroom. The door is rickety and the window doesn’t shut all the way sometimes. We only get cold water in the kitchen sink and only one side of the refrigerator works.”

 

“So a few problems with it and it can’t be a home?”

 

“You’re not understanding me, Maya. It was great for the years we’ve lived there, but you can’t honestly think that was going to be it for us.”

 

“Why couldn’t it be?”

 

“That’s your problem, Maya. You get stuck places.” Maya feels her heart crack into a million pieces. “You settle, you accept, you don’t _live_ , you’re just stuck. I want a home with 2 bathrooms and a real mailbox and a spare bedroom and a refrigerator that isn’t filled with paint you’re never going to use because you’re off the art kick and onto the teacher thing. I want a home that I don’t have to pay for every month. I want a family. We were stuck there, Maya, just to get us going and now I know where I’m going and I thought you did too. But here we are, you’re yelling at me for wanting new front door, so that means you’re _stuck_ somewhere again and this time, it’s not going to be my job to get you to move towards something.” She can’t believe she just said those things to her, she can’t. Her mouth is hanging open in shock, Maya bets if she could move she’d see everyone else looking the same.

 

Maya Hart just keeps getting left.

 

“It’s not the apartment that’s my problem, Riley. It’s not the new one you’re moving into. 2 bathrooms is a great idea and our front door’s paint _is_ chipping. It’s just, out of everything I’m stuck on, the only thing I haven’t moved on from yet is you. And if you really believe in the whole ‘home is a person, not a place’ thing, I’d just like to know when _you_ got unstuck from thinking that home was me.” Maya thinks she’s going to cry, but she’s trying so hard not to as she runs out of the restaurant.

 

She faintly hears someone suggest that family dinner tomorrow be postponed. She thinks she hears Riley ask Lucas to follow her home. _Home._

 

She’s already gone.

 

Maya doesn’t like the breakup at all. She’s fine with Lucas staying with her that first day (she likes it a lot, actually), but his pancakes kind of suck compared to Riley’s and she’s out of tampons and she can’t exactly ask Lucas to run and get those for her and she cries a lot. A lot a lot.

 

She can’t wrap her head around it. How Riley could just _leave_ this place like it was nothing more than a bad dream. This was Maya’s first home. The first thing that belonged to her. Where she lived as a kid didn’t count, she was never really there and neither was her mom. She stayed in Riley’s home a lot more, and she loved it and they loved her, but it wasn’t _her_ home. And the college dorm was fun, but it was temporary. This place, no matter how beat up and ugly it looked on the outside, was one of Maya’s favorite places in the world. Because it was hers and Riley’s. There had never been in time in her life when she hadn’t lived with Riley. That’s why she felt like home. Big things happened in this apartment. It was where they cooked their first full dinner meal and where Maya painted her first college-graduate painting and the couch they fell asleep on when they watched too many episodes of _Dancing with the Stars_ in a row and where they kept tissues under one of the cushions because whenever one of them had to cry, the rickety little couch was the first place they’d go and it’s where Riley had her first break up, her first heartbreak, because that jerkface she dated since middle school cheated on her and where Maya got promoted to the manager of the ice cream shop and Riley got promoted to full-time journalist and where they’d have midnight kitchen dance parties and snuggle in their one bed that barely fit in the bedroom they shared and there were stars on the ceiling. It was home.

 

She goes to middle school on Monday just because she needs a distraction.

 

Her eyes are still a little red from crying and she gets there early because she can’t sit in the apartment alone anymore and Lucas had to leave to get clothes to wear. She skips coffee, she skips throwing a dime in the guitar player by the subway’s cup, she skips saying hello to Donna the nice secretary.

 

She’s alone in the classroom for a while when the old phone attached to the wall rings. She picks it up. It’s Mr. Matthews. She wants to hang up (but she doesn’t, of course, she doesn’t).

 

He asks her to meet him in his office (fancy history department supervisor has his own office now instead of a classroom). She leaves Lucas a note on his desk in case he gets there before she’s back and then runs out the door.

 

His office is small but it looks like his office. You’d know it was his. One of her paintings is up on the wall, there’s pictures of Riley and Auggie and even Maya and a big world map that takes up most of the wall with pins in it and a stack of books and papers all over his desk next to the name tag Farkle bought him when they graduated that says “Farkle Time” on the opposite side.

 

“Wow, looks good,” She says when she walks in, and Mr. Mathews turns to face her.

 

“Oh thanks. Topanga doesn’t believe me when I say there’s no gray hairs yet…” Mr. Matthews combs through his hair and looks up at her, “You meant the room. Yeah, okay.” She nods. She loves this guy.

 

“So, what do I owe the pleasure?” Maya says, taking a seat in his desk chair (she’s got a thing for big black cushiony swivel desk chairs, don’t judge her) and watches Mr. Mathews grab something small from one of the shelves.

 

“She’s 26 years old and she still needs Dad to fix her problems.” He says with a smirk. Oh god no, she doesn’t want to talk about this with him. She starts to say there’s no problem, but he cuts her off, “I miss teaching sometimes. I do, really. I always like when teachers are absent and we don’t have a substitute so they ask me to do it. I loved my classroom. I loved my kids.” He paces the room, looking at a row of pictures on one of the walls that Maya recognizes is a picture of her class that he followed from 7th grade straight through high school. “It was scary to move to high school with you guys, because it felt like I was leaving _my place_. But it seemed necessary to move on, and I’m glad I did. But that doesn’t mean I never wanted back. That place was still my place, and it wasn’t easy to leave. The high school became my home for the next set of years and I loved every minute of them.” She didn’t know where he was going with this.

 

“I get that I need to move on, Mr. Matthews, but I do so much moving, so much uncertainty and unknown. I liked having one thing that stayed the same.

 

“But sometimes, we confuse what that constant really is. Is your ‘same thing’ that apartment? Or is it something else?” She wants him to give her the answer, she can’t figure it out herself, she needs her teacher to teach her again. “It’s not wrong to love consistency, but it’s not wrong to want change as well. The things we love always come back to us, Maya. In fact, they never really leave. Look where I am now. Back at the middle school. My home. My constant.”

 

“I’m not going to move out of the apartment and move back in after a few years.”

 

“Never said that.” He says, not elaborating any further. She misses him sometimes but she never misses this. She just wants the answer. “I think the hardest part about leaving a place is thinking all the things we loved about it are going to go away with it. But that’s impossible to do. That apartment is a place, my classroom here was just a place. The things we did and do in these places _aren’t the place_ , they’re memories we keep in our hearts. They go with us no matter what place we’re in.”

 

“I’m not worried about that,” she says, but she’s lying and he knows it.

 

“And it’s not enough for the memories to come with us, we want them to keep being made. And in a new place, we sometimes worry they’ll be different,” he shows her the little thing he picked up before. It’s a key ring.

 

“This is the key to my old classroom. The one you got your tenth D in and you’re first A, the one Riley went goth in for a week, the one Farkle used to pretend he ruled. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to leave the room, I just didn’t want to leave _the things_. But last I checked, you still have those Ds in the trash and I’ve still got your A hanging on our fridge. Riley still wears black sometimes and Farkle still thinks he rules the world.” He sighs and holds up the key again, “I had to give the key to someone else. I had to. I was coming back to the middle school, but not to teach. My classroom was going to belong to someone new and I wanted it to have the same charm and life and memories that I created in there, even if it wasn’t me and my kids making them. Do you know who has my classroom now, Maya?”

 

“I think so.”

 

“When I look into Lucas’s classroom, all I see is me and my kids. The charm and the life and the memories,” Maya smiles thinking about that classroom, how she spent the better part of her middle school days there smiling and laughing and now she was apart of doing that for more kids. Mr. Matthews always knows what he’s doing with these things.

 

“Sometimes, all it takes to move on, is knowing you’re putting the chance for new memories in the right hands.” He flips the key ring to show another key, this one a little bigger, more silver, one she thinks she recognizes.

 

“Topanga and I are thinking of moving too. Our home is too big for us now, without you hopping in through the window and Riley singing terribly in the shower and without Ava Morgenstern running through the door in a fit of rage, bless Auggie for still putting up with her, and no Farkle leaving chemicals in our fridge and Josh doesn’t visit to play the family game. The memories had a chance to live, and boy, did they live, but now I think someone else needs to live them. I’ve got this key and I need to give it to someone. Put the memories in the right hands.”

 

He looks at Maya and tells her to hold out her hands.

 

Maya is thrilled to head back to the classroom after she hugs Mr. Matthews for a solid five minutes, squeezing all the breath out of him and crying (almost hysterically, shh, don’t tell anyone) because she’s sad to move on but she’s happy about it now too.

 

Lucas is teaching already when she walks in and he looks worried at first because her eyes are a little red around the edges and before he can make the lasso threat again she smiles really brightly and sits in her seat in the back. Home.

 

He finishes the lesson a little before the bell rings, so the class is quietly chatting in their seats. And Maya can’t help but overhear Kelly say something very interesting.

 

“Yeah, we’re probably going to have to move. Without dad, mom can’t pay for the big house we have. She’s looking for a smaller one I think,” she says to Maya when she walks up to her and asks her what she means when she heard her say, ‘I’m moving’.

 

“Really? Found anything yet?” Maya questions, her heartbeat quickening and the second key in her pocket ready to jump out at any moment.

 

“No. Everything is so expensive, even the really tiny apartments she’s finding,” Kelly looks down at her hands.

 

“Well, I actually happen to know of a place that might work for you guys. It’s small, but it’s home. And rent isn’t bad,” Maya scribbles her phone number onto a piece of paper and hands it to Kelly, “Tell your mom to call this number and ask about it. I think you’ll like it a lot. They have stars on the ceiling.”

 

///

 

Maya gets a new roommate.

 

You’ll never guess how it happens.

 

She’s still living in her own apartment for the next few weeks to give the Matthews some time to pack up their stuff and buy their new place. They find an inexpensive apartment not too far from where they already live and bless their good hearts, they’re not selling their house to Maya, they’re just giving it to her. She feels like her heart could burst again and again.

 

She doesn’t tell anyone that’s where she’s moving yet, just says she found a place and she’s really excited about it.

 

She doesn’t see Riley at all. Ever. One day Maya comes home after school and finds all of Riley’s stuff gone. Must’ve come when she knew Maya wouldn’t be there. Smart on her part, but Maya wishes she had miscalculated so she had a chance to at least _see_ her, even if they weren’t talking.

 

She’s sad about it, but she’s getting better. So much better, she doesn’t even need to call Lucas right after she gets home that night and sees the missing stuff. She’s good (she thinks).

 

One Friday at the end of March, Maya’s professor comes to observe her. Maya thinks she could pee her pants, she’s so nervous.

 

She’s been preparing the perfect lesson for weeks now, because this had to go perfect so that her professor would see that she was a perfect teacher. If everything went perfectly, that is.

 

In a moment of weakness, she calls Riley to ask her opinion on what she should wear (because she has to _look_ perfect too, and Lucas isn’t good at that because he says she always looks perfect, what a mush), but she hangs up when she realizes what she’s doing.

 

She calls Lucas right after to cry about it (she knows she was doing good, but the stress of this stupid observation put her over the edge) and through the phone she hears Riley’s voice. “Make sure she’s okay. Don’t tell her to stop crying because she won’t listen. Just hum a nice song or something and then say her name really nicely, she likes that. And if you have the chance, tell her to wear my navy dress. I left it in closet because I know she likes it best and she looks really good in it and it’s very professional. And you don’t have to say it’s from me, but just say ‘I love you’ to her. If you can.” Maya cries harder.

 

Riley and Zay close on their new house but they need a few weeks for the selling family to move out and to move all their own stuff in, so in the weeks leading up to it, they’ve been staying in Lucas’s place. Maya hasn’t visited him in a while.

 

But the Friday comes and Maya’s up bright and early (she has to at least pretend to be a morning person) and she’s wearing the navy dress and it smells like her (the only scent she wears, vanilla perfume from the purple bottle, of course).

 

Her coffee’s piping hot when she strides into the classroom, ready to take on the day because this is it, Maya’s going to be a teacher, she really is, and she’s going to get Riley back soon and she’s in love with Lucas and she’s got a home. A few of them. But when she opens the door to the classroom, Lucas is laying on his desk, knocked out cold.

 

She doesn’t have time for this.

 

“Rise and shine, sleepy head, we’ve got a big, big day!” She sings brightly as she skips down the rows of desks, watching to make sure her coffee doesn’t spill. She bends down so her face is level with his and what a cute little sleepy face he’s got, she could kiss it.

 

She bumps their noses together and shakes her head back and forth, giving him little eskimo kisses (she’s probably disgusting, but she’s in a really good mood and she loves him so she’s just going for it). “Wake up, Huckleberry. I know you’re not a coffee person, but if you’re not going to stay awake for the biggest teaching day of my career and possibly yours too, I’m going to shove it down your throat against your will.”

 

“That sounds much more like you,” he says, his eyes slowly opening as he sits up and Maya has to wipe the drool off his cheek. “I love Zay and Riley, with all my heart, I really do, but they make so much noise at night—”

 

“Way too much information!”

 

“Not like that, gross. They’re just always watching movies and TV and making stuff in the kitchen and singing and blasting music. They felt bad the first night, but their version of quiet is so much different than mine. And I just don’t have the heart to say anything about it, they’re so happy. So I try the couch, I try my room, I try theirs when they’re not in it, I even went for the kitchen floor, but I just can not find a quiet spot. I swear to you, I slept maybe two hours last night. You know, on second thought, give me a sip,” he says reaching out for her cup.

 

“They’re moving out today, though, right?”

 

“Yeah, actually, I was talking to Mr. Matthews after a meting the other day, and he says he’s got a place for me to stay.”

 

“Wow, really, you’re moving too?”

 

“Yeah, figured it was time for me to follow the trend. The place is great, actually, it’s his old home. He refuses to let me pay for it, just says I can move in.” oh my god, this guy. Matthews always meddling in her life. She kinda loves it.

 

“Oh, that’s great. He was telling me about that place too. You’re going to have a roommate, did he tell you?”

 

“No, didn’t mention it.”

 

“Funny, I know all about her. She’s blonde, currently unemployed but she’s working on it, a painter, really funny, I hear, bad cook but likes to eat, and if I remember correctly, she’s got this Huckleberry…”

 

She sees it set in his brain. His big blue eyes meet hers, “Oh no.”

 

“Oh _yes_ , Ranger Rick, or should I say, _Roomie_ Rick!” She laughs when she says it and he sighs in defeat but his smile betrays him and when his chair slides out she jumps onto his lap, leaving kisses all over his face, _she’s so happy._

 

“C’mon. As much as I know you’re enjoying this because now you’re going to be able to pester me into my dreams, you’ve got a professor to wow.” He says and lifts her out of the chair. “I’m going to make copies. You got this?” He says, almost out the door.

 

“You bet.”

 

“That’s my girl.”

 

And you know what, it really _does_ go perfectly.

 

She doesn’t know why she was worried, she knew the professor would fall in love with her first period class right away. They’re really good kids, and they know what’s up so they’re on their best behavior, but that doesn’t mean a few good one-liners don’t slip out. Maya blushes when one kid references the fact that she calls Lucas Huckleberry and Brandon stops them to talk about that field trip to the moon and asks the professor for some funding and somewhere towards the end, someone asks about square-dancing.

 

And the best part is, it’s the professor that asked.

 

“Heard so much about it, I want to see it in action! We’ve got ten minutes left, think you can do it?”

 

“Have you met Miss Hart, Mrs. Professor? She can do _anything!”_ Daniel says and Maya’s stuck for a few seconds before she can start helping the class move their desks.

 

She’d be embarrassed but she’s too busy laughing when they start to dance. Her professor is beaming as she watches the kids skip down the line and Lucas grabs Maya do do their partner thing and she sees him open his mouth and a ‘no don’t do it’ is on the tip of her tongue but before she can get it out, he’s already doing it, he’s singing. The class joins and Maya can’t because she’s laughing and two of the girls, it happens so fast she can’t tell who it was, grab the professor and have her dance with them as well.

 

Sounds pretty perfect to her.

 

The bell rings too soon and the kids run out yelling their goodbyes and the professor asks if she can stay for another period.

 

She eventually leaves after period two tells her about how many times Maya fell when they were teaching her ice skating tricks and on the way out she shows Maya her blank paper.

 

“I had nothing to write down. I couldn’t stop watching you. You make my job harder, I don’t know what I’m going to write down for my report on you. I just can’t put it into words. You are magical with these children, Maya. I don’t know how many times I can say it, but you really are going to make a brilliant teacher. You’re already shaping so many lives, making so many people happy. Your friends and family are very lucky.”

 

Almost on the verge of tears because she’s _so freaking happy,_ Maya and Lucas run out on their period three prep to get the rest of the classes celebratory donuts. They don’t really know what they’re celebrating, but who passes up donuts, right?

 

Mr. Matthews calls at the end of last period to tell her the apartment’s empty and she’s all ready to move in. She asks him/kinda yells about Lucas and all he says is “You know you love it. You’re welcome.”

 

And he’s not wrong. So she says thanks.

 

Maya’s had her stuff in boxes for weeks now, and Lucas owns like 3 blue shirts and a pair of shoes so it takes them all of an hour to pack his place up.

 

Maya leaves the stars on her ceiling and pack of smelly stickers and pancake mix in the apartment for Kelly and her mom and Lucas has to hide his cowboy hat so Maya doesn’t throw it away and then before you know it, she’s got Mr. Matthews’s keys in her hands and she’s moving in.

 

Mr. Matthews was sort of lying when he said it was empty, because they left a lot of stuff. The couch is still there, and Maya sees the rip she put in it across the middle cushion when as a very intelligent 8-year-old decided to put on a rock band performance with Riley and Auggie. She sees a blanket on the windowsill, the really itchy one she and Riley bought from the big store with their very first allowances combined. The family picture they took when they went to Disney World is still hanging up. The basket of fake fruit they used to leave on the kitchen counter that Maya would offer to Riley’s stupid boyfriend every time he’d come over. The karaoke CDs they used to sing on Friday nights instead of going to parties. The painting of the bay window she did in art class that made her first realize she wanted to be an artist. Her favorite sweatshirt she stole from Farkle one snow day. All the teddy bears she and Riley used to line up for their “audience” when they put on their self-written and self-produced musicals. The coffee table she spilled paint on at least once a week. And the refrigerator, with Maya’s very first A in history hanging up on it.

 

Memories don’t go away. And the best part is you can always make more.

 

“Let’s go Huckleberry, we’ve got a lot to do in here.” She drops the last box and immediately opens it to start filling in their home.

 

 _Their home_. She likes the sound of that.

 

No, it wasn’t easy to get here, but in the long run, she’s glad she did it. She honestly couldn’t see herself moving anywhere but here. This always felt like home and now it really was.

 

She likes the way Lucas’s shirts look hanging up next to hers and she likes the way he lets her dedicate an entire room for her art supplies and she likes the way her paintings look hung up next to the drawings from students he’s kept over the years and she likes the way her hair covers his face when they plop down onto the bed after everything’s unpacked.

 

“Alright, I’m starving, you?” Maya asks as he blows her locks of blonde out of his face.

 

“It’s 7 on a Friday night…” He starts.

 

“I don’t know Lucas, you think we could?”

 

“Judging by the fact that you just called me Lucas, I think you could take on just about anything in the world.” And she feels like he’s right. She loves Riley with her whole heart and they both just moved into their new homes and yeah, it feels like home but she knows it’s not really home unless she has Riley. Moving into a new home was something they were supposed to do together, pick out paint colors and bed sheets and wall decorations and pack up stuff in boxes reminiscing. They’ve both packed up their things already, but there is one thing they didn’t get yet: each other.

 

She’s her real home. Always will be. So that’s where she needs to be right now.

 

“Okay, you call Farkle and get to Antonio at the pizza place. We haven’t been there in so long someone might have taken our table. I’ll meet you there. Gotta drop something off at Riley’s,” and she smiles when she says it because it doesn’t hurt, not one bit, when she says it, “Riley’s”.

 

She drops a kiss on his cheek and grabs a special painting and runs out the door. She doesn’t know anything about where Riley’s living now, other than that it’s with Zay and that it’s on _that street._

So when she gets there she decides there’s only one thing she can do: go door-gazing. She walks past every door on every floor, looking at all of them, big ones and small ones, ones with windows and ones without, doorknobs and knockers and numbers, up every floor and back down, until she finds the red one. She knocks on it quickly, and without even a moment’s hesitation, Riley opens the door.

 

Maya doesn’t have time to cry because her makeup looks too good today after she did it so nicely for the observation (she feels like that was _days_ ago) so she pushes past Riley in the doorway and doesn’t hear whatever Zay says to her and walks towards the big window on the opposite side of the room and places the canvas on the windowsill.

 

“You needed a bay window.” She says when she feels Riley walk up behind her. It’s her bay window painting, and it looks really good right here.

 

“We’ve walked past this place to look at the windows enough times for me to know that they don’t have them here. So I rushed here with this as fast as I could. Went up and down every floor until I found the red door and…”

 

“But that’s your bay window,” Riley says, quietly.

 

“Nah, it’s _ours._ And besides, I’ve got the real deal at my new place that we can sit in any time we want now. No more scary, rickety fire escape,” Maya laughs, and Riley doesn’t look shocked or surprised and so Maya knows _she knew._ “You came up with the idea didn’t you?” And she doesn’t even need to explain before Riley answers.

 

“Dad couldn’t agree fast enough. He was calling you into his office before I could even finish my sentence.”

 

“So we’re home, huh?” Maya turns to really look at her for the first time in weeks and _shit she’s going to cry._ It should be illegal to love somebody this much.

 

Riley looks like she’s gonna collapse too, she lunges forward and throws her arms around Maya.

 

“Now we are.”

 

“Alright, that’s it, y’all are gonna make me cry like a baby,” Zay yells, interrupting their moment, and when she looks up, laughing, he’s already got tissues in his hands. “Lucas just texted me about pizza. Poor Antonio thinks we fell off the face of the Earth. I don’t know about you two lovebirds, but I’m starving. So can we save the girly ooohin’ and ahhin’ while we look at all the furniture and compare paint samples and drapes and whatnot for another day?”

 

“Yes, sir.” Maya salutes.

 

“Okay then, race you to the lobby!” And just like that, he’s out the door, throwing Riley the keys and telling her to lock up on the way down.

 

“You picked a good one, Riles.” Maya says, shaking her head.

 

Riley gives her one last squeeze for good measure and looks up at her as they start to walk out the door, “Is it possible to fall in love too quickly?”

 

“God, Riley, have I rubbed off on you that badly?” Maya jokes but Riley looks serious.

 

“It’s been, what, four months? Is it possible to love someone that much so fast?”

 

Maya spins and locks her green eyes with Riley’s beautiful brown ones, “Riley, do you remember what I said the first day I met you, when we were just six?”

 

“That you were in love with me.”

 

“Yup, the very first day. And now, where are we, 20 years later?”

 

“Still in love.” She says with a silly smile, holding up her friendship ring.

 

“So I hate to break it to ya, but you’re gonna have that idiot racing you down to the lobby for the rest of forever.”

 

“Alright, as long as he knows you’ve gotta be there when he proposes, we’re good.” (Oh she’s gonna be, don’t you worry.)

 

And they make it to pizza by 7:30 and Jessica the waitress brings them their drink order she knows by heart and sweet little Antonio throws in some free garlic bread for good measure because he missed that little _famiglia_ that made a racket in his back corner booth every Friday.

 

When Maya was a little girl, she thought she had no home. She couldn’t tell you _one_ place.

 

But now, the key ring on her heart never stops jingling. Her red front door is always open.

 

///

 

Maya becomes a teacher three times on April 24th. A Friday, exactly 6 months from her first day as a student observer in Mr. Friar’s 7th grade history class.

 

The first happens quite literally. She goes to her very last college class (and she swears she’s done with school for good, it’s been 5 years too many already, stupid college).

 

The professor gives all the students back every paper they’ve written, all their essays and forms and journals and reports and write-ups. Maya’s embarrassed when she gets back the napkin she used to write her paper on classroom objectives on when she was still working at the restaurant. She puts it next to her final paper, the one she wrote last week about everything she’s done and learned and seen being a student teacher that made her cry at least 4 times and she thinks she might cry again (but she doesn’t, of course, she doesn’t) because look how freaking far she’s come. Just look.

 

“Well, that’s it ladies and gentlemen, that’s all I can give you. It’s now up to you and your beautiful, brilliant minds to go shape a few new young ones. I wish you nothing but happiness in your new career, may your prep periods be long and your piles of papers to grade be short.”

 

And on their way out, the professor hands each of them an apple (haha, very funny) but when she gets to Maya she does that thing again where she stops her and calls her back to her desk.

 

“The rest of those kids are going to graduate in a few weeks, diploma and cap and gown and all that nonsense. But since you only came back for this course, you won’t get the real deal, maybe a certificate, if you beg the office staff enough. But even if it _is_ silly, I still believe every graduate, no matter how big or small, should get to actually graduate,” She smiles at Maya and then looks behind her, towards the door and yells, “Come on in, guys!”

 

And before Maya even has a chance to breathe or blink or turn around, the door bursts open and in a flash of noise and laughter and stampeding, her first period class and Mr. Friar himself come running into the lecture hall.

 

Each smiling face finds a place in the rows of seats, in the same order that Maya has memorized from the classroom, and they’re all cheering when Mr. Friar holds up the cap and gown he was hiding behind his back on the way in.

 

“I’m not putting that on.”

 

“I snuck into the main office supply closet and found a leftover set from last year’s graduation. I practically _stole_ it, from my place of employment, which is probably illegal on a few levels, just for you. So you _are going to_ wear it,” and he’s got that smirk on his face and that twinkle in his eyes when he says it, so with a huff and an eye-roll and an _oh my god I love him so much_ Maya sticks her arm out to put the bright red cap and gown on.

 

“If you make one joke about me being so small that I fit in something designed to fit a 14-year-old, I will _end you_ , cowboy.”

 

“You have threatened that you will end me at least 17 times in the past 24 hours, and judging by the fact that I am still here, I’m going to take it that you like me too much to let that happen,” he says, and holy crap, he’s not wrong. He places the cap on her head, not stopping to fix her hair that gets stuck sticking out in all directions (ugh, guys, you know?) and takes his phone out, “Now could you try to smile a little, please, Riley wants a picture. And if it comes out nice, I’m putting it on the fridge.”

 

“Not the fridge!”

 

“You were too busy yelling for this one,” He shakes his head and throws the phone back in his pocket, “We’ll try again when the tassel’s on the other side, yeah?” He gives her one last smirk that Maya reads as “I wanna kiss you but we have children here” before he runs to sit with the class.

 

“Alright, who’s got the music?” The professor calls and somewhere towards the back Brandon jumps up and runs to meet her.

 

“That’s me, Mrs. Professor!” He’s plugging his phone into the computer and says, “Now, I don’t know what kind of song you’re supposed to use at a graduation, so I just picked the next best thing…” And when he presses play, all Maya can do it smack her hand to her face and take a deep breath.

 

There is no way in hell they’re going to make her graduate to the fucking square dance song. 

 

But they do.

 

Lucas motions for the kids to stop talking and Kelly leans over to him and whispers, “Mr. Friar, we should have gotten her a cowboy hat with a tassel instead.” How brilliant Kelly, what a good one, Maya hates that she ends up liking people so much that she can’t end them. I mean, look at those two cute faces. It’s seriously not fair.

 

The professor comes around to the center of the room, holding up a piece of paper scribbled on in crayons that Maya can tell are the ones she stole from the art room for Nina and Erin, and she says, “I have no idea how these things work, I can never stay awake during the real thing every year, so I’m going to try my best here, bear with me. Okay, it is my honor to announce the graduate of the Early Childhood Education class program.”

 

And the music reaches that awful part where the fiddles squeak at a high pitch rapidly and the students are all either laughing or cheering and Lucas has his phone out to get that picture for Riley and their fridge and he’s yelling at her to smile but he hasn’t stopped looking at her with those eyes yet and her shoes squeak on the floor as she fidgets in her place because she doesn’t know what to do with all this love inside her right now and the professor shouts, “Maya Hart!”

 

It’s a mess of noise, but nothing has ever sounded more beautiful to her.

 

She walks, practically skips, across the room to the professor, blushing uncontrollably because she can’t believe they made her do this but, holy crap again, it has just hit her—she’s a teacher.

 

 _She’s a teacher_.

 

She grabs the crayon diploma and shakes the professor’s hand and then just for good measure, she looks at the class to move her tassel but instead swings it around like a lasso a few times before placing it on it’s new side. They get a kick out of that one. She’s never going to win.

 

“ _Y’all_ better not make me square dance by myself!” she shouts, and just like that that, everyone is up and out of their seats and the room is alive with laughter and movement, totally unstuck, just how she likes it.

 

After a few songs and chocolate chip cookies for everyone (thanks, Mrs. Mr. Friar’s mom), the 22 children (and one grown woman) “boo!” Mr. Friar relentlessly when he says that it’s time to head back (“You do realize this was not _your_ graduation, right? You have 6 more periods today, not to mention 5 more _years_ ,”). Before she leaves, the professor gives Maya a big squeeze of a hug, wishes her a few more of those words she always uses to make Maya feel good, and tosses her that apple.

 

Maya’s one of the last out of the room, except for Brandon, who forgot his phone was still blasting music. She tells Lucas she’ll wait to make sure Brandon gets out alright (you never know with that kid). He closes the door behind him and starts to walk towards Maya.

 

“Finally got your field trip,” she says.

 

“I mean, it’s no moon, but I think it’s pretty close,”

 

Closest she’ll ever get.

 

The second time Maya becomes a teacher that day is during period 8, when Amelia (third row from the left, 2 rows back, of course she still knows) decides that the only proper way to go about Miss Hart’s last day is to have her go out the way she came in. And that means…

 

“Pop quiz! Everyone take out a piece of paper.”

 

“No, no, I really don’t feel like a headache today, Huckleberry—”

 

“Let’s do…” He completely ignores her and starts to write on the board, “‘Miss Hart’. Seems fitting,” he shrugs and Maya kicks him under the desk. He’s completely unfazed. “You know the drill people, 15 minutes and we talk. I have a good feeling about this one…”

 

The class begins to chatter excitedly right away, and Maya feels like she could throw up (but she doesn’t, of course, she doesn’t). “If we’re going to do this, I want an explanation.” She shoots him a look, but she can’t look him directly in the eyes because that would ruin her. She can’t do the eyes.

 

“There’s not much I can say about it, Maya, I mean—”

 

“No. You _will_ tell me something about it. I need to understand some part of it. I have watched them happen for six months and nothing has become clear to me. On my last day, I deserve it.”

 

“I can’t look at you right now because I know you’re doing that thing with your eyes. Stop and maybe I’ll come up with something,” He says, spinning around to look at the board, suddenly very interested in that little piece of chalk.

 

“Pinky?”

 

“Pinky.”

 

“Okay, sit and spill it, cowboy.” She spins the chair and hops on the desk, waiting, but not so patiently. (“You have like three different versions of yourself shoved into that little body of yours, and lucky me, I get them all.”)

 

“I can answer just about every question these kids throw at me. Dates of all the Civil War battles, everyone who signed the Declaration of Independence, the Presidents and their Vice Presidents in order, any nonsense about that Columbus guy, you’d be surprised how many questions I actually get on him. Anyway, I can always answer their questions, but one time, I got one that I couldn’t answer.”

 

“Let me guess, it was –”

 

“No, it had nothing to do with me being a cowboy,” he glares at her, how did he even know— “They asked, ‘Well, what does this have to do with me?’ and at first I thought the kid was just being a self-centered jerk, but it kind of made sense. What good is it doing me to know all the state capitals? What do I gain from understanding taxes Britain put on the colonies in America? I’ve always just _liked_ to learn history, I never questioned the why, but suddenly it hit me—what’s the point? And that’s not something I can answer for you, you can’t answer it for me, that kid in the back can’t answer it for his class. You can only answer it for yourself—how will you make yourself better from the knowledge around you? What will you do with it?”

 

“You sound so much like Mr. Matthews, I think I might vomit.”

 

“That’s the goal,” He winks and folds a paper airplane from a paper she was fiddling with in her hands.

 

“So you just give them something they learned about and ask them to learn something from it?” He nods. “But where does all the nonsense come in, all those drawings and poems and weird interpretive dances?”

 

Lucas seems to think for a second before continuing, “Okay, remember the first pop quiz I did with you, ‘the moon’?” How could she possibly forget? “Just a few days before, I overheard some girls picking on Shay from first period in the hallway. I didn’t recognize the girls, they’re not from my class, but they were being really mean to her because they saw her holding another girl’s hand outside of school. She tried not to let it get to her, but you could tell it did, and at the end of class she asked me if it was bad to want to hold another girl’s hand. I didn’t respond at first, I was a little shocked just because I wasn’t expecting something so outright, I mean, usually you have to dig to get this stuff out. But as soon as she said it she apologized saying she couldn’t ask anyone at home so she thought I could help. Of course I could, I told her that was completely fine, and normal, and just as good. Holding hands is just holding hands, no matter how you slice it, so who cares whose hand it is? As long as _you_ like them, _I_ like them, and we should _all_ like them. I had to tell her unfortunately, that’s not how it always works, especially in middle school. But I promised her that she could hold anyone’s hand in my classroom, even mine if she ever needed it. And I said that one day, the safety of my classroom will be the safety of the whole world. I found out the next day that Fallon and Jess helped her with the girls in the hallway, and so when they did the pop quiz, they colored their moons in a rainbow, just to let her know that mean girls suck, but not all girls suck. The moon is a faraway, almost impossible thing, but we can get there, little by little. Acceptance is Shay’s moon, her faraway thing, but with that rainbow, she got one step closer, she moved towards it, and that’s what the moon has to do with her.”

 

Maya was literally at a loss for words.

 

“15 minutes is almost up, you ready?” How can he do that, how can he go from _that_ happening to that stupid silly grin she wants to kiss all the time in just a matter of seconds, like nothing happened at all? She will never do a pop quiz, but they mean something, they’re not just filler, and that makes them a whole lot less bad than she made the out to be that first Friday night pizza to Riley and Farkle. A whole lot less.

 

Maya noticed for the first time since they started that the students were sitting in very small groups, just two or three of them, sometimes even one. Each had a drawing with them.

 

Marley was up first, and she explained what they did. “Each of us drew a picture of Miss Hart as what she is. Mine’s kind of obvious, but since she’s constantly telling me I’m one, I decided that Miss Hart is an artist.” She holds up the drawing, the class giggles at it because she’s got this funny lopsided beret on and the paint splotches are everywhere (“I am so much neater than that when I paint!” –Miss Hart, “I strongly disagree, ask my poor, traumatized, paint-splattered couch,” –Mr. Friar, “What happened on your couch?” –Marley, “Moving on!” –Mr. Friar and and Miss Hart, very loudly). She hangs it up on the board, and then goes back to her seat.

 

Emma and Jake are up next, they have Miss Hart as Einstein, her blonde hair sticking up all over and an oversized lab coat hanging over her shoulders. The flasks and beakers of chemicals are bubbling behind her, all blue (“Isn’t that your favorite color, Miss Hart?” –Emma “You have no idea, hun,” –Miss Hart), and the only equations a seventh grader can understand are written on the board, because “Miss Hart, you are so brilliant! We hear Mr. Friar say it all the time after class and we just wanted to let you know we think so too.” They hang it up next to Marley’s.

 

Faith and Wesley have drawn her as a clown, because she’s the funniest person they’ve ever met (“Like that one time you made Wesley shoot soda out of his nose he was laughing so hard!” –Faith) and Amelia has her drawn as said soda (“Your pretty red lipstick reminds me of a Coke can and you are so bubbly,” –Amelia, “You should see how bubbly she is first period!” –Brandon, “Go back to class, Brandon,” –Mr. Friar) The two pictures are hung up next to the two before.

 

A group of boys (Ben, Finn, Max, and Andy) drew her as a dinosaur for the sole reason that dinosaurs are awesome and Miss Hart is the awesomest (not a word, but it’s cute). Mr. Friar, acting a lot like Lucas, whispers to her that they basically called her “SO OLD!!! Extinct, practically ancient” but the boys pull through at the last moment and show that they drew Mr. Friar as the bird that Miss T-Rex-Hart is about to eat. Weird on _so many levels_ but she can’t stop laughing. She can’t. They hang it up.

 

Spencer has her drawn as George Washington, from her lesson-plan epiphany, because she is the fearless leader their class never knew they needed (“Say that a little louder so Mr. Friar can hear!” –Miss Hart, “Who gets paid??!” –Mr. Friar, “Are you two married?” –Wesley) and Jordan and Mia draw her as a ballerina for the way she dances down the aisles to hand back papers and when they have last-five-minutes-of-the-day dance parties. The next two are hung up.

 

The last three groups come up. Zander and Geo drew Maya as an Oscar for her performances in the classroom, whether they be about the lesson or fake tears to get a dollar from Mr. Friar for the vending machine. Alexis and Alexa and Alexandra (“Oh my god, you three really had to do this together, you make my head hurt enough of the time,” –Mr. Friar “Leave the girls alone they drew me as a princess so anything they do is correct and wonderful,” –Miss Hart) hang theirs up next and Chris and Teddy finish it all up with their version of Miss Hart as an oreo cookie with no explanation at all, it just _is_ , and maybe that’s why it’s her favorite one.

 

All the papers are lined up on the board, their colorful drawings making Maya laugh and laugh again because they are so beautiful she’s such a freaking sap, six months with a cowboy and his kids really does something to a person, you know?

 

But then suddenly, all the kids are out of their seats and running towards the board, holding onto the edge of their paper. Marley takes the lead again and says, “So yeah, Miss Hart, you’re all these things and a lot more. I think we all now realize just how lucky we are to have had you for such a long time. And though we wish it could last forever, you’re going to do a lot of great other things, especially as the last and our most favorite thing that you are,” she looks down the row, and altogether, the class flips their papers over and hangs them up to show the back side.

 

And the ten papers, all lined up, each with a red letter on the back, spell out, ‘our teacher’.

 

_She’s a teacher._

She doesn’t know what’s more unbelievable: the fact that she’s a teacher or the fact that the twenty students literally turned into mini-Mr. Friars to pull a whole last minute change of word on the board to make everything come together and all that nonsense like when ‘the moon’ changed to ‘your moon’.

 

“Alright, get over here, you cuties,” and when she says it her heart nearly bursts for god knows what time that day, and they all run around the big teacher desk to topple her over in her small student’s desk she’s kept in the back corner all year. No desk she’d rather have.

 

The third time it happens she does not see it coming. At all. She almost pees her pants.

 

All the students have left the school and Lucas and Maya are cleaning up the classroom.

 

“Can you believe I made it? Six whole months with you, Cowboy!” Maya says as she pushes in a few chairs kids left out in their rush after the bell.

 

“I really _can’t_. I feared for my life after that first day, you coming in all no-nonsense, scary lady in the back corner with fresh coffee stains, death stare of doom look you had going on. I’m honestly still waiting for the lasers to shoot at me from your eyes,” Lucas puts some papers away in his desk drawer and meets her at the desk she just fixed.

 

“I’m sorry it had to come out this way, but yes, it’s true: I’m a double agent who has been positioned here to KILL YOU!” Her eyes are wide and bright as she hops over the desk to jump on his back. He swings her around, her hair whipping him right in the face. “Here come the lasers!” she starts to yell, but he’s got her up over his shoulder running down the rows of desks, her laugh bouncing off the walls, before he finally puts her down on his desk.

 

She looks him right in the eyes and says, “Okay, I’m feeling nice today, so I’ll let you choose how I’ll kill you. Do you want the easy way, or the hard way?”

 

“How about…” He starts to say, their faces getting closer and closer together, not even blinking, _oh my god those fucking blue eyes_ , “the kissing way!” he screams, just before planting one smack on her lips.

 

“That was gross,” she says, but her smile is so big, she has trouble believing even herself.

 

“ _You’re_ gross.”

 

“You’re gross _er_.” And she sticks her tongue out to spit at him.

 

“Okay, lovely, thanks for the shower, really needed it since ours at home is still broken.” (“Okay for like, the ten-millionth time, how were Farkle and I supposed to know that homemade volcano kit was going to clog up the drain? At least we had the decency to keep it all in one place so you wouldn’t have to clean it up!”)

 

She slides down from the desk and he starts to walk towards the door, “Anyway, I have a meeting in the office for a little, you wanna come?” but she shakes her head.

 

“No, I’d rather play tic-tac-toe on the board by myself again. I never lose!” He just laughs and keeps walking, asks her again if she’s sure, and so she yells, “Just go, Huckleberry, the faster you get this thing over with, the more time we have to binge watch _Parks and Rec_ before we have to go to pizza,” and so with that, he bolts out the door, leaving Maya alone in the room with her soft laugh and her very in-love eyes and her heart too-full of love.

 

She takes all the pictures down from the board, and it hits her again, _she’s a teacher,_ but before she even has time to let herself cry over it, she has all her drawings and papers and stickers and books from her back corner desk that every kid gave her the past six months packed away in her bag and Lucas is back within the next ten minutes and _things get weird_.

 

“What kind of meeting takes 10 minutes—oh no, you were fired, weren’t you?” she laughs.

 

“Keep laughing, if I was fired, we’d have exactly 0 sources of income to pay for our home.”

 

“Not true, I could scam Farkle into it.”

 

“No you couldn’t! Whatever, they only called me in to put in a supplies order for next year.”

 

“Now how the heck are you supposed to tell them what you need for classes you don’t even have yet?”

 

“It’s just the basics, like a preliminary thing, after the fiasco last year. We put in for our supplies after the first day, and what a mess. Everyone’s stuff was lost and on backorder and I didn’t have enough paper after the first week.” Lucas puts all his stuff together and grabs his bag, heads towards the door, and Maya follows.

 

“So, did you ask for anything good?”

 

“Not really, you know, pencils, erasers, some more stickers, stuff for the bulletin board, you, more chalk—”

 

“Wait!” Maya screeches, her hand on Lucas’s as he tries to open the door for them to leave, stopping them in their tracks. “Did you say… _me?”_

“Well, I mean, _yeah,_ I guess I did.” He says with a shrug, and ohmygod stupid cowboy could you please learn to elaborate when you speak because she can’t keep up with all your nonsense. “You’re like, the most important thing I need, Maya.”

 

“Please tell me this is a joke.” She doesn’t handle mushy shit well, he knows that, she doesn’t roll like that, she _does not like_ where she thinks this is heading, he better not try to pull something like—

 

“Not a joke, I, uh, I just realized, thinking about how much I’m going to miss you when you don’t teach here anymore, that I need you just as much as I need paper and pencils.”

 

“Please, just stop, I can’t—” because she really doesn’t like where this is going, she wants to kill him (but she doesn’t, of course, she doesn’t).

 

“You’ve got a job here, if you want it, I mean.”

 

Oh shit. _Not_ where she thought this was going. (This is where she almost peed a little because she was glad there was no diamond ring involved, but a job? Maya Hart with a real, adult job?)

 

She can’t get her brain or voice or breathing to function so he keeps going, “Mrs. O’Connor is the art teacher here and she’s retiring at the end of the year. I heard them talking about it in the office so I asked. They said they couldn’t find anyone, and that’s when I mentioned you. I thought, you know, they’d say they’d consider it, but they no—they’re set on you. They’ve already done background checks and they know you’re qualified, they’ve watched you. You already know the school and the students. They said it’s be perfect.” And she wants to cry (but she doesn’t, of course, she doesn’t) because she’s already cried 6 times today so we might as well make it a seventh.

 

“It’s probably really selfish of me,” he continues, finally looking into her eyes, and she feels like she could melt, “but you are on my supplies list, and that’s one thing I might actually get on time, pencils are already on backorder, they said,” he laughs a little but Maya still looks a little petrified and stuck. She needs to be unstuck. He moves a little closer and adds, “But you don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course. Millions of other schools are probably dying to have you.”

 

She was doing so good, so so good, and this is so out of character for her right now but she

just can’t help it, why did the universe have to make her this way. She’s done being scared she just wants to be able to hug him and say “Yes! Thank you! Me, a real teacher? I want to spend every day with you, this is literally my dream coming true!” but she’s always fucking stuck. She’s shaking a little now, getting it all out of her system, every worry every panic, every meltdown, in these 3 seconds because she’s absolutely done being terrified for good things, she’s done with it, she wants to be happy, she _is_ happy, she’s just working on getting there without the _stuck_ part.

 

And it hits her again:

 

_She’s a teacher._

And an art class! She loves the cowboy and his history class with her whole entire heart but art is where she belongs. And he got that for her. How does he do that?

 

And when he looks at her again, she knows she’ll never stay stuck for too long, I mean, just _look_ at those eyes _._

“I’m a teacher?” It’s the first time she says it out loud, it feels a little funny, but then this silly smile she can’t control is overtaking her and it feels so good, “I’m a teacher!”

 

They both start laughing, standing in the doorway of his classroom that used to be theirs but now she’s going to get her own one down the hall with her own desk and chalkboard and phone to talk to Mr. Matthews and she can buy smelly stickers and never give pop quizzes and sing and dance when she runs down the aisles of desk and she’s gonna paint she’s an artist she really finally is for realsies this time take that stupid college and _whoa_. She takes a breath. And then she jumps up and wraps her arms around his neck and squeezes him tight and whispers this little mushy “thank you” before a tear falls on his shirt and she doesn’t know what else to say because she feels so much, she feels _so so much_ , and she’ll never have the words for him. Never in a million years (but she’s signed up for the forever thing so she has a feeling she’ll get close) (but she also has a feeling he wouldn’t mind if she said thanks a different way, you know, without words) (gross).

 

“And you wanna know the best part? Mrs. O’Connor teaches the regular art classes for 4 periods, but she teaches a two special ones—Art _History!!_ ” Lucas says as they walk down the hallway and out of the school.

 

“Oh no! God, you’re never going to leave me, Huckleberry!”

 

“That’s the goal.”

 

And on their way out she hands in her visitor pass for the last time, she smiles at Donna the nice secretary and waves to the principal who knows now she’s not a troublemaker anymore _she’s a teacher_ and she fist bumps the cool janitor who always did their room last because he knew the two of them were sometimes in their for hours after school acting like stupid kids and she gets back all her lesson plans and shit _now’s when she’s really gonna bawl_ and she has to stop thinking these things in a single sentence she needs a breath in there. _Whoa_.

 

Next time she walks through the doors, she’s gonna be a teacher—not an observer, not a student, not a visitor, not just Maya. She’s Miss Hart, Art (History) teacher.

 

And that’s definitely one of her favorite things to be.

 

///

 

Okay, scratch that—not a teacher.

 

Tell that to her when she gets a paycheck. Or isn’t sitting alone on her couch all day.

 

Because the school year still has two months left in it. That’s 36 more days (not counting weekends and days off) that Lucas is a teacher and Maya is not. The happy tears after she accepted the job in the office that Friday did not account for those 36 more days. And she’s not taking it very well.

 

Let’s just say she and her couch have gotten very close.

 

At first it happened out of habit, she woke up that first Monday likes she always did, because the alarm goes off and Maya always tries to press snooze but Lucas’s stupid mega giant (pretty and muscular) arms always reach over her before she can get out of the covers and then she’s up. She puts on a sweatshirt and stumbles into the kitchen and knocks over the big brown picture frame on her way (“Maya, that’s been there for three months and every single day you still manage to knock it over.”) She doesn’t even have to open her eyes to find her way into the kitchen because she’s a pro at the “I hate mornings” thing and all she has to do is hold out her hand and sweet little cowboy puts a cup of coffee into it.

 

She thinks she dozes off sitting at the kitchen table and she knows something’s up when she doesn’t feel the previous stupid mega giant arms shake her awake and yell at her. She’s programmed for it—that’s the way their mornings work (she lags, he yells, she puppy dog eyes him, he yells again, somehow they get out the door). So she’s waiting for it, really, but instead she gets a light kiss to her forehead and a “See you later, shortstack. I’ll tell the kids you miss them.”

 

And that makes her wake up because “Shit, I’m not going with you.” And then “I _can’t_ come with you?”

 

“It’s like six hours, dude, you’ll survive.”

 

“Dude?”

 

“Go back to sleep.”

 

“I like it better when you’re yelling at me to wake up and learn some history.”

 

“Maya Hart refusing sleep, who thought we’d live to see the day?”

 

“Can you shut up and come back over here?” She reaches out to him with her coffee cup, “I’m empty.”

 

“History class is calling me. I’ll miss you.”

 

“I’ll miss your coffee-making abilities, Sundance.” But she really means “I love you”. She hopes he gets it.

 

She’s sure she sits there for at least 15 more minutes after he’s out the door, in and out of sleep, contemplating if it’s worth the energy to make herself coffee. She decides she’ll have Riley do it. So she throws on some clothes and heads over to Riley’s for round two of coffee and and people leaving her.

 

Because they chat for a nice long while about school and the color Riley should paint her bathroom and that new book she read and “Maya, why don’t you try reading words, not just pictures?” and who found a new mac-n-cheese recipe and stupid best friend stuff. But eventually it’s all, “Oh, would you look at the time—I have to get to work,” and she doesn’t have time to refill her coffee again but Farkle shouldn’t be too busy and office interns love to make coffee so is it time for round three? Oh, yes it is.

 

He isn’t in his office but fresh-out-of-college Joe (“Hey, I’m fresh outta there too!”) is, trying to get some paperwork, and their fresh-outta-ness sparks a very one-sided conversation that literally goes nowhere and _how desperate does she look right now_ , the poor kid, so she doesn’t make the intern make her coffee, she just asks him to show her where she could find some. He also says Farkle’s in a meeting but should be back in twenty minutes and it’s 10:35 and there’s like 4+ hours left without Lucas and she’s _bored out of her mind this is so pathetic it’s just a boy_ so she’s going to hang out in his office with some coffee. She’s gonna start to look like coffee soon.

 

She writes her name on his whiteboard and plays with his filing cabinets to make different sounds and rearranges the post its and pens on his desk like six times and maybe he’s not coming back so she grabs her things and waves goodbye to Joe and walks a few blocks to Topanga’s to see her mom for round four.

 

But she’s working, you know, that thing everyone seems to be doing but Maya, so she can only pour her a cup and maybe say a few words before she’s on to helping the next customer.

 

It’s pathetic, really, when she’s walking around the streets of the city at 12 o’clock on a Monday all by herself because she misses working. As a child, she would give anything to not have to go to school, it’s literally every kid’s fantasy. But here she is, the world at her fingertips for the next 36 days and she only wants to be at school. It’s pathetic. She wants to be working like everyone else and it’s pathetic and she never realized how much she needed it and it’s so pathetic.

 

She goes back home and fixes the pillows on the couches and washes the dishes in the sink and makes a grocery list and an art store list and moves the clothes from the washer to the dryer and dusts the tops of picture frames and is this what it feels like to be a housewife, a stay-at-home mom? Because she hates it, with such a burning passion, she feels like ripping her eyes out (but she doesn’t, of course, she doesn’t).

 

When she checks the time again (time feels like it’s moving so fucking slowly) she knows Lucas will be in the middle of period eight so she can’t call him but if she walks really really _really really_ slowly she can make the walk to the school last a solid 40 minutes so she’ll get there to be waiting outside the _very second_ he’s done. And that‘s okay, right?

 

The same thing happens the rest of the week when he leaves, and it hurts a little more each day when he walks out the door being all sweet and good and wonderful (but he’s still leaving so that’s not wonderful) and all she’s got is bad morning breath and an empty cup of coffee. She got the hint after day four that she was just getting in the way when she visited her friends at work, and the only one she didn’t hit was Zay because Riley wouldn’t tell her where she could find him (he’s on Broadway, god bless the kid, and tickets to those things ain’t cheap).

 

And the same thing happens the rest of the week when he comes home, and she jumps on him like she hasn’t seen him in months and he’s all like “Hey love, I missed you too,” but those words literally never leave her mouth, not ever, you think Maya Hart can say _those three words_ are you crazy? But she hopes he knows, she really really does, because she really really does those three little words him. Do you get it? Yikes, she’s lost it.

 

The alone-ness of the whole thing is just hard for her. Because there’s only so many paintings to paint and trashy soap operas to watch and things in her house to clean before she absolutely loses it. She doesn’t like not having anything to do, she’s so stuck all the time and she’s supposed to be an artist and a teacher, an art teacher, and why isn’t she.

 

Silly cowboy falls asleep on her shoulder when they’re watching a movie one night (literally the third one she’s watched today and she napped a few times in between so that’s why she’s still up). His eyes aren’t even open and she’s still lost in them, it’s ridiculous, she’s so in love, but all he gets to see is her grouchy sass in the morning when she doesn’t want him to leave and her stampeding attack at night when she just wants him to stay forever. And she realizes she’s glad that if she can’t be a teacher right this second, at least she can always be in love with him right this second. All the seconds. It’s pretty sappy, but whatever, at this point she’s used to all her insides being mush, silly cowboy.

 

They wake up Saturday morning and Maya can literally feel her heart swell because Saturday means NO SCHOOL!!!! LUCAS ALL DAY!!!! What a beautiful thing. She hops out of bed faster than she has all week because for the first time she isn’t dreading it. And she doesn’t have time to remind herself how pathetic it is. She contemplates stealing his key so he can’t even think of leaving her today (but she doesn’t, of course, she doesn’t).

 

“Did _you_ make coffee?” Lucas asks when he stumbles into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and stretching before he sits down. He yawns and adds, “I feel like we’re in Freaky Friday or something—I can’t keep my eyes open and you’re actually smiling before 10 am.”

 

“I can smile before 10 am!”

 

“No you can’t, because you’re usually pouting and yelling at me about my ‘stupid job’.”

 

“Alright, you win that one—”

 

“You just let me win something—seriously, Maya, are you okay?”

 

“You know what, keep it up and I’m gonna leave _you_ in this house all day to be bored beyond reason and I’ll go do something crazy and fun and—”

 

“Fine by me,” he says and makes his way to the couch, “I could really use a nap.” And she’s gonna argue that they literally _just_ woke up and she goes to jump on him on the couch and just as her pillow is about to collide with his face… the doorbell rings.

 

She hops up first to get the door (“Probably the new paint set I ordered—1-day shipping, can you _believe_?”) and is at a loss for words when it’s _not_ that paint set, it’s Lucas’s mom and another woman surrounded by a bunch of kids (okay there’s like 4 but it’s early so it’s a lot for her).

 

She hears Lucas audibly groan loudly and get up from the couch when the kids run in and his mom starts to fuss over mom things (she hasn’t visited their new place yet and Lucas has been just counting the days until she showed up to stay for _weeks_ to make up for missed time and it looks like today’s the day).

 

“Mom, Aunt Mel and Co., what do I owe the pleasure this early morning?” He says in between another yawn in which his mom yells at him to brush his teeth because his breath smells terrible.

 

Maya shifts herself to the kitchen uncomfortably because _this_ is uncomfortable and she loves Lucas’s mom and she’s sure anyone else related can’t be that bad but dammit this was _her_ Saturday. Her phone rings and it’s Riley, thank you magical best friend powers that be, so she makes a quick exit to take the call.

 

“Make this last as long as possible,” she starts as soon as she picks up and Riley seems 100% confused and concerned and starts to yell over her but Maya insists, “You first, girl.”

 

“I don’t know how to go about this. Oh no oh no oh no…” She hears Riley wince on the other end before continuing, “Okay, I’m just going to put it out there: I need you to have a baby with Lucas.” Like she can deal with anything else at the moment. Good one Riles.

 

Maya screams fast, and covers her mouth when she realizes _shit they’re going to come get her_ so she runs into the farthest room and shuts the door and continues in a whisper for good measure, “Okay, I’m not sure what other ways you considered going about this—whatever _this_ is, but I’m letting you know that _was not the way!_ Try again.”

 

“Sorry, I just, I don’t know, it happened so fast and now I’m embarrassed.”

 

“You need to explain what could possibly need me to have a baby to fix.”

 

“Not like literally have baby, like I need you to talk about it.”

 

“Not an explanation yet, missy.”

 

“You want the whole story? Right, of course you do, alright,” she’s babbling, Maya knows it’s gotta be really bad, “I was talking to Zay this morning, you know, we were just sitting there, talking about normal morning things and he said something about how one of the dancers in his show had to quit because she got pregnant. I felt so bad, I mean the poor girl is 19, it was her first role in a Broadway show and Zay said the only manageable way she could only stay in the show if she got an abortion or gave the baby up for adoption and of course, you know, she can do whatever she wants, but her parents are very religious so she’s grown up believing in certain things, you know? So she’s keeping the baby and leaving the show next month. I was saying how I felt horrible, but I thought I could make the situation a little lighter and I was like ‘Hey, at least her kid will be a great dancer, just like ours.’”

 

“Oof.”

 

“I know.”

 

“And then?”

 

“And then, I didn’t know if I should pretend it never happened, but you know me, can’t ever keep my mouth shut, so I kept on babbling and I brought up the Riley and Maya Life Book.

 

“God no, no you didn’t.”

 

“I did. I did, because I thought if I started making a joke of it, like that silly little book, we could both laugh about it or something, I don’t know. But he still looked a little petrified, I mean, obviously, no one talks about having a baby with their boyfriend of 6 months. He probably thought he’d end up like that poor girl, off Broadway and stuck with a kid who probably will get all my dancing genes and be stuck with two left feet, oh no, I’m doing it again!” She cried and Maya was literally at a loss for words.

 

“It’s okay, it’s fine, you _will_ laugh about it soon. I mean, everyone imagines what their kid would look like, I’ve done it on the first date before, that’s normal. You did nothing wrong.”

 

“You’re going to want to take that back.”

 

“What?”

 

“Because the only way I thought I could make it better is if I made it seem like it meant nothing, like it was a normal thing, because Maya, sitting there in that awkward silence, it didn’t feel like a normal thing. So I may have accidentally told him that you already talked about it with Lucas.”

 

“No.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“No.”

 

“I’m really sorry Maya. And I don’t mean it like you having a baby has no meaning I just mean if you already did it, it’s fine if _I_ did it. And I just need you to tell him some of the things on your side of the page in the book just in case Zay ever asks him about it, you know, maybe he’ll bring it up to laugh about it, like you said he would, and I just need him to be in the loop so I’m not caught lying. And so that no one freaks out over babies, because your kid, I’m looking at it right now, looks like a joke—Sorry!!! I didn’t mean that, like I said, you mean just as much, it’s just, do you even remember what you named your baby?”

 

Maya feels like punching someone, maybe Riley, maybe herself, maybe Lucas, maybe pregnant dancer girl (no, wait, she could never) but she ends up just falling to the floor, sitting there curled in a ball with silence on the phone and cowboy-cousins down the hall and feeling shitty. She always ends up back to feeling shitty. Of course.

 

The Riley and Maya Life Book was this mish-mosh of odds and ends scrapbook-type thing that they started when they were like, 7, and made a pact that no matter what, they’d do every step of life together. There were pages about everything they came across: pets, boyfriends, houses, phones, hair color, jobs, and of course, babies. They made these things when they weren’t even in double digits yet. Did she really think they’d stick to them? No. I mean, they were adorable, and the concept and gesture of being friends forever through everything was nice and _that_ part of it they’ve kept, but the baby names? Really? Because Maya remembered what she named her baby, and she wasn’t telling Lucas. (Let’s just say it was the phase where boys had cooties and Maya wanted nothing to do with babies or getting married or boys or anything like that at all so the name Riley forced out of her was dumb, like the first thing she could think of).

 

But beyond the fact of the name, and that fact that she’d never dream of naming a child that, it was the way Riley brushed it all off that made her so mad and confused and angry and shitty feeling. Because there was the very true fact that on the top of Maya’s side of the baby page in their book she placed a big red box that said Maya really didn’t think she’d ever have a baby (for all those sucky reasons in life and love and family that she’d experienced as a child, she was just against the idea) but Riley literally forced the pen into her hand and she filled it all out anyway.

 

So maybe little Maya was against it, but things change, and right now she’s very much in love, sickeningly so, and though she’s yet to say it to his face, she sure as hell loves him. So maybe she’d want to, maybe she really really definitely would want to do all those dumb things they planned as kids. Maybe she wants to raise a mini cowboy artist (like she told Riley, everyone imagines their kid, you just do it, so stop laughing at her).

 

She really doesn’t want to talk to Lucas about it for a lot of reasons. It’s the ugly name she picked and the fact that Riley thinks it means nothing but it obviously means something because she’s _so fucking in love with him_ and if she has to tell him it becomes _a thing_ and she’s doing really good being unstuck with life at the moment and the very idea of commitment and love and a child goes against all of it and the plan is based on a lie and the whole thing is just a mess and there are cowboy-cousins outside still and she has to stop crying over everything because one of those kids is going to come in here and yikes.

 

But she agrees on the condition that it’s Riley and she’s kind of in love with her too.

 

She doesn’t know when she’s going to fit it into her schedule, as she never can seem to catch a minute alone with the guy anymore, which is a whole different problem she almost forgot she had to deal with, so she snaps Riley a quick goodbye and she has to tell herself like 12 times not to cry before she heads back into their very crowded living room.

 

She starts to speak but Lucas pops up behind her and covers her mouth, muffling her scared scream. When he lets go, crouched behind the wall, she lets out a very loud, “What the fuck?”

 

“It’s for your own good, My.”

 

“Today has been happening for like 12 minutes—”

 

“It’s 9:30.”

 

“I’ve been _awake_ for 12 minutes and it literally could not get any worse, Huckleberry, so I think I’m going to go out there, get some coffee, pretend to smile…”

 

He grabs her hand before she can make it very far and says, “What’s wrong? What do you need? Are you okay?” and those stupid blue eyes _oh my god_.

 

“I’m fine,” she lets out with a sigh, “And I’m pretty sure I can handle just about anything your mom wants to throw at me.”

 

“Yeah, but maybe not Aunt Mel.”

 

“What could they possibly need from us at 9 in the morning, a babysitter?” She laughs sarcastically, but those damn blue eyes look at her again and it’s not looking like a joke. “No way, what did you tell them?”

 

“Nothing yet, all they did was ask me to watch the kids before getting distracted by something else, one of them needed a diaper change, so I ran out of _that_ as fast as I could.”

 

“Shit, Anna, he’s got a girl here!” another voice cuts into the air from behind them, and with an eye roll and a whisper (“Avoid direct eye contact and try to answer all questions with a yes or a no.”) Lucas gets up and pulls Maya with him, so that they’re face to face with Aunt Mel and a pants-less baby.

 

“Melissa, we went over this, that’s the teacher friend, they live together now and are hopelessly in love but pretend they aren’t and hope we follow along,” Lucas’s mom joins the picture, tossing a smile at Maya and a baby bag at her sister.

 

“Oh god, right, Mia!”

 

“Maya.”

 

“Same thing, anyway, is your bathroom this way? I didn’t want to ruin your coffee table.” She says with a laugh and Lucas points her down the hall with her smelly diapers. Maya grumbles under her breath.

 

“You want coffee, honey?” Lucas’s mom says to Maya with those beautiful eyes he surely got from her and all Maya can do is collapse into her outstretched arms. God bless mamas.

 

“Mom, don’t take this the wrong way, but why the heck are you here?” Lucas says as they settle into the kitchen, the noise of loud toddlers and kids all under the age of 8 in the background, making Maya’s head spin and reconsider the big red box in the Riley and Maya Life Book.

 

“You know how I’ve been wanting to see Zay in his show for a while now? Well, your Aunt got us tickets to see it tonight as a surprise for the anniversary of me moving in with her,” Maya cannot help it, no matter how annoying their interruption of her Saturday was, they are like the cutest sisters ever.

 

“And where does your visit here come in?”

 

“We never do anything fun, you know, for all those years taking care of you and your cousins, so we thought it might be fun to make a day out of it—go shopping in the city, get some lunch, a nice dinner, then see the show. The only problem was the kids, because your Uncle has to work, so I thought, you know, you’re right in the city, and you love kids, make a living spending all day with them…”

 

“I don’t do kids past 3 on Fridays all the way through Monday at 7.” Kids, _why_ did they have to be talking about _kids_? Maya feels her face flush a hot red and she’s sure everyone knows it’s not from the hot coffee.

 

“I should have called, this was a bad idea—”

 

“Mom, no, it’s fine.”

 

“No, I should have. I think last night I was just so excited and I knew you’d be at your pizza night super late and then in the morning we were just getting the kids ready and I forgot, I really did, and I know you wanted to spend time with Maya since, you know, god forbid you’re separated for 5 hours a day, which is so sweet, but I forgot. And I didn’t think it would be a problem. Uh, Zay could watch them until the show right?” Maya feels her heart breaking. These fucking Friars, she can’t handle them.

 

“It’s fine. We’ve got them. 4 kids are no problem after 22. Besides, I miss the work,” Maya says and Lucas’s mom smiles a little but she doesn’t look convinced, so she adds, “I can torture your son all day tomorrow. I promise, it’s fine.”

 

“Thank you, love.” She squishes both of them into a bone-crushing hug, “I expect a full tour of the place as soon as we get back, I don’t care if it’s midnight. You’ve missed out on my presence for too long.”

 

“We could have waited another month.”

 

“Lucas Friar.”

 

“Sorry, Mom.”

 

“Maya, I want you punch him if he’s ever out of line, and never be afraid of soap in the mouth. Works like a charm.” She says with a twinkle that Maya immediately reciprocates (she really _can_ torture him now!) “If all 4 kids are alive at the end of the night, maybe I’ll throw in a batch of cookies, yeah?”

 

“Well, now that you mention it, I was planning on losing at least two. But for the cookies, I’ll put in some effort.” Lucas says, earning him a hit to the head and drag-by-the-ear to the living room.

 

“A foot taller than me and I’ve still got him. I mean it about the soap, Maya.”

 

“I doubt she thought you were kidding, mom.”

 

“On my way to grab some now!” Maya adds with a laugh before following them to the couch to meet the little lovebugs she signed up for for the day.

 

“Alright, everyone, line up by the couch.” Lucas’s mom only has to yell it once before they stop wreaking havoc in their living room. How does she do it?

 

“First, everyone has permission to spit on, yell at, or attack Lucas for the next 5 seconds as punishment for being bad to his mama.”

 

“Really?” The tallest of the kids asks with a head tilt.

 

“Yeah, sure.” And so they do. The little one jumps on him and the big one screams right into his ear and the middle one is too precious, she just asks Maya what Lucas possibly did wrong to ‘perserve’ (deserve) this.

 

“Alright, times up.” Lucas’s mom looks at her imaginary watch and all the kids stop before Maya has to answer the middle one’s question. “Next order of business, everyone say hi to Maya,” and all the kids look blankly at her (except for that middle one who’s got _the eyes_ and whispers a “Hi, Miss Maya”).

 

“Who she?” The little one asks, and the oldest follows with, “Did Lucas get married and we weren’t supposed to know it?”

 

“Believe me, kid, if he did, you’d have been able to beat him up for much longer,” Lucas’s mom gives Lucas a quick glare before focusing back on the little ones, “This is my friend Maya, who is also Luke’s friend, and is now going to be your friend.”

 

“So we have ta be nice to her?”

 

“You better, or you know what you just did to Lucas? That gets done to you. Got it?”

 

“Yes, Aunt Anna,” the three little ones chorus.

 

“Wonderful, now everyone, tell Maya who you are.”

 

The oldest one goes first, “I’m Carson and I’m 8 and a half and I’m sorry I asked if you were married to Luke because I forgot that no one could really like him that much,” and he’s overcome with a serious fit of giggles by the end, and Lucas shouts something before scooping him up and shaking him upside down saying “No one like you either, crazy kid,” before sitting him down on his lap, still locked in tight, and still very hysterical (“Really, Miss Maya, he’s such a weirdo!” “I love this kid.”)

 

The littlest boy jumps up next, laughing too, because he wants to go just like his brother but all he does is stick up 3 fingers and says, “I’m this many!”  Lucas mom coughs a little, hoping to signal him, and when he realizes he forgot his name, he gets very embarrassed and bright red (Maya feels like she can relate), so he digs his little face into his aunt’s lap. She finishes for him, “Teddy, because we like to squish him like a teddy bear, right buddy?” and somewhere he murmurs a response. What a cutie.

 

“And while I’m at it, this is Miss Noah,” she continues, referencing the 5 year old girl with those big blue eyes and long dark brown hair who can’t stop smiling at looking at Maya with said blue eyes twinkling.

 

Her lips form a little ‘o’ and she gasps before whispering, “Aunt Anna, is she _the_ Maya who painted the pretty sky in our kitchen?”

 

“The one and only.”

 

Her lips twist into a huge grin (as huge as those little lips could possibly go) before she laughs and jumps into Maya’s lap to give her a hug, a squeeze, “Can you teach me to paint like that?” and Maya knows that if she can feel her heartbeat right now, Noah’s head placed right on her heart surely has to be feeling it too, and when she doesn’t jump off, that might be what makes her heart explode (because teaching, art and this precious little cowgirl cousin snuggling in her lap all at once, she can’t take it).

 

“And here’s baby number 4, my little Rosie. And she smells fresh as roses in her new diaper, you are all very welcome for that. She also just discovered the wonders of walking and ‘if I cry mommy will feed me’, so good luck.” Aunt Mel strides into the room just then and places a baby in Maya’s lap.

 

“So, this is where we leave you, everyone give me and mommy big hugs and kisses.” Lucas’s mom says, standing up, and the three kids make their rounds, followed by an already-exhausted-and-it-has-been-only-10-minutes Lucas and Maya. And in a flurry of hugs and kisses and goodbyes and baby bags and notes on all the kids left on the kitchen counter, they’re out, leaving Maya with a baby girl in her arms and a headache from the sound of Disney Junior already blasting on her TV.

 

Happy Saturday!

 

Maya soon learns that the angels she met only exist within the confines of their superwoman aunt. 

 

It starts off simple enough, the kids occupied by Doc McStuffins or some other squeaky kid show but then Carson is hungry and Lucas burns the Eggo frozen waffles and he’s got nothing else for the poor kids so Teddy goes to eat Noah’s arm and before Maya can pull him off, Rosie lets out a piercing cry and has to shift her attention to that fiasco instead. Lucas throws a leftover slice of pizza at Carson instead, cold, and a twinkie at Teddy and Noah doesn’t have time to catch the piece of white bread Lucas is going to give her because she has to show Maya how to open Rosie’s bottle. A bag of chips enters the mix and soon its all over the floor as the two boys throw it at their sister. They shift focus back to the living room in time for a jump-on-the-couch dance party. Pillows are flying and to avoid collision but still be in reach in case of emergency, Lucas and Maya are ducked behind the back of the couch.

 

“3 hours in and we already suck at this.”

 

“You can say that again, Huckleberry,” Maya says as she’s hit with a pillow.

 

“We might not make it to mom’s cookies tonight.”

 

“Oh, I _need_ them. Wait—where’d I leave Rosie?”

 

“I think she fell asleep on our bed?”

 

“Right, okay, I’m going to check on her, best of luck to you in here,” Maya hops up and throws a pillow back down to Lucas before running back to Rosie. She’s back within maybe 30 seconds, because she found the baby awake and ready to crawl out of the room. She chases her down the hallway and with an infectious giggle, she scoops her up, only to find Lucas talking to someone on her phone.

 

Shit.

 

It must have fallen out of her pocket in the rush, and all she has to hear from Lucas is “Has she told me _what_?” to know that Riley’s on the other side and she’s going to die, _she’s going to die,_ kids suck.

 

“Anything you wanna tell me, Maya? Because Riley has gone silent over here, and she _never_ goes silent.”

 

“No, nothing. Have you seen where Aunt Mel left the diapers, I can’t seem to—”

 

“A _baby?”_ Lucas screeches, obviously hearing something from Riley on the phone. The noise of the kids doesn’t die down at all, but Maya feels like the world stops. “Maya, you _better_ have something to tell me now.”

 

“Please don’t be angry…”

 

“I’m not angry,” but his voice rises a little.

 

“I didn’t mean for it to happen like this, shit, this is so fucking,” she covers her mouth, _kids_ , “this is so embarrassing. Riley you have no idea how much I love you to be doing this.”

 

“Maya, what the hell? You named our kid? Without informing me that we were even having one?” (“Carson, did you hear? Luke said _hell_.”)

 

“Riley, can you please shut up over there??!” She shouts back, “And yes, Lucas, I have a name for a baby, and for both our sakes I hope it’s not yours anyway, since you seem so appalled by the idea,” She feels herself closing up, every open unstuck part of her going back to where it once was because you trust the good things in life and then life decides to remind you that you don’t deserve it. All you get are angry sort-of boyfriends and screaming children (that aren’t yours). “But I’m not having a baby right now. Riley just screwed something up again and needs me to fix it so I have to tell you the name of a future child of mine that I picked out when I was 7.”

 

“And that is?”

 

“Lollipop.” Her face goes bright red for the millionth time that day and she hears the kids laugh from the couch and the baby in her arms starts to squirm and Riley must reaffirm the fact for Lucas over the phone because he doesn’t look convinced that it’s the real truth until 30 seconds after she says it.

 

“You know what, this isn’t fair, I shouldn’t feel bad about this. I told Riley before that it’s all totally normal, so it shouldn’t make myself feel like shit for talking about having a baby with the guy I’m in love with, no matter how ridiculous the name is. Stop looking at me like that, Ranger Rick, Lucas, please.”

 

His big blue eyes stare at her for what feels like 10 minutes (but it couldn’t be because the kids haven’t blown anything up) before his mouth twists into a quick smile and he says, “You know, maybe we should do lunch out, yeah?”

 

That’s how she ends up strapping all the kids into coats and tightening Velcro on mismatched shoes before picking up little Rosie who can’t seem to be in anyone’s arms but Maya’s. She counts heads to make sure all 4 are with them before unlocking the door and pushing them out to get some Friday night pizza on a Saturday afternoon.

 

And just before the door clicks shut, Lucas bends down to whisper in Maya’s ear, “For the record, you said it first.”

 

“Said what.”

 

“I love you.”

 

“I love you too.” She says with a smirk and bounces Rosie in her arms. She sets off down the hall and can hear Lucas shouting behind her, “Okay, not cool, so not cool, Maya, that doesn’t count.”

 

But it does count. It very much does.

 

The kids don’t get easier as the day rolls on by, but they’re not doing half as bad as they started. The kids listen when Maya says they have to use napkins when they eat their pizza, Carson stops hitting Noah with the basketball without Lucas having to even raise his voice when they get to the park, no one runs away from the swing set, they take turns pressing the elevator buttons in the apartment, Rosie cries maybe only 3 more times, and Maya only contemplates splitting her head open from the immense headache once (twice, but it’s fine).

 

But for as well as everything’s going since Maya and Lucas got a handle on things, that doesn’t stop the bedtime madness. Because there is not a single kid on earth that doesn’t dread bedtime, so the little angels are no easy exception.

 

They’re back to that annoying jumping on the couch phase, and Maya knows if she ever has kids she’s putting a gate around the couch. Or maybe getting a wooden one. Do they make those?

 

Maya’s just about had it with them, as cute and precious as they are, (especially that little Noah, she lost it when they painted together—got paint on her nose and made a little green turtle and she wishes she was kidding when she says she started to tear up because kids and painting _ohmygod_ this is all she needs in the world, who knew?) so she hatches a plan.

 

“Alright, Huckleberry, you ever seen _Glee_?”

 

“Mom and Aunt Mel live for Rachel Berry solos.”

 

“Great, go get that cowboy guitar I know you have somewhere and play me something. I’ll sing but you might want some earplugs.”

 

“Okay, first off, just because you think I’m a cowboy doesn’t mean I need a cowboy guitar, I don’t even know what that is…”

 

“But you have one.”

 

“I do, but that’s besides the point. Also, if I need earplugs to listen to you sing, then I doubt it’s going to work to put the kids to bed.” But with a smile he goes to get it anyway, and sits down on the coffee table in front of the couch the kids have abused so badly throughout the day (his couch seriously isn’t going to make it that much longer).

 

“We’re going to do ‘Papa Don’t Preach’. Quinn and Puck do it and it pacifies the 3 little brats they have to babysit so I’m hoping TV doesn’t lie on this one and it knocks these kids out.”

 

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

 

“Then what kind of _Glee_ fan are you?”

 

“I never said _I_ was, I said _mom and Aunt Mel_ were.”

 

“You’re of no use to me then.”

 

“Wait, guy with the Mohawk right?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“He does ‘Sweet Caroline’, that’s a good one, yeah?”

 

“Let’s just give it a whirl, shall we? I have only the very last strand of my sanity to lose here.”

 

Lucas starts to strum the guitar slowly, a little rough at first, but it sounds pretty nice after a few seconds, and Noah notices immediately. She stops jumping and tugs on Teddy’s shirt to make him stop too, and while Carson take a few more tugs, he’s sitting when Maya starts to sing. She’s surprised Rosie hadn’t fallen off the couch in the mess, but turns out she’s all good, perched on the edge of a cushion between her two older brothers, mesmerized by the music before it even began.

 

Lucas laughs when Maya starts dancing to the chorus, her hands in the air, her eyes shut and her blonde hair swinging behind her. Noah joins first of course, bumping her arms into Carson’s to get him to join as well. To her complete shock, they don’t start jumping again, _it’s working, it’s working, it’s working_ , they stay calm and quiet as Lucas continues to strum and Maya belts it out.

 

And four sets of those trademark Friar eyes are looking up at her, and Maya wants to keep these 4 cute faces forever.

 

They repeat the song 3 full times before she notices eyes start to get heavy and little hands tucked under heads like makeshift pillows (because those crazy kids threw the real ones all over the place, that’s what you get!).

 

Lucas plays the last note and looks over at Maya, “12 hours in and we’re not so bad at this.”

 

“You can say that again, Huckleberry.”

 

They throw two big blankets over the kids and dim the lights on their sleepy faces, then set up blankets and two overthrown pillows behind the back of the couch, just like before, so they can be close in case of emergency (they’ve got cookies riding on this).

 

Maya catches a glimpse of the stars on her ceiling before looking over at Lucas.

 

“You know, I did some thinking,” he starts.

 

“Oh no, that can’t be good.”

 

“Let me finish,” he throws a pillow at her and laughs before continuing, “Lollipop wouldn’t be such a bad name for our kid.” Maya’s heart stops beating.  He picks up the guitar and starts to strum the chords of ‘Sweet Caroline’ again, but skips straight to the chorus to sing:

 

“Sweet Lollipop, whoa-oh-oh!”

 

“Oh no you didn’t cowboy, don’t make me feel any worse about this than I already do…” and while she does feel horrible, she can’t help but laugh as he keeps singing this song about their imaginary future daughter named Lollipop.

 

“There is literally no better name we could choose; you did good Maya. C’mon if that reason wasn’t enough, I don’t know what is.

 

“Oh, really?”

 

“Yeah, but in all seriousness, _Ollie_ sounds a lot like _lolli_ , like lollipop. We could name her Olivia, Ollie for short. Ollie pop, lollipop.” And she feels it start to beat again, very fast, in case you were keeping track. “Besides, we gotta stick to it. The Riley and Maya Life book sounds like some serious stuff.”

 

“ _You’re_ some serious stuff.”

 

“This is very true, and for the record I wasn’t angry about any of that stuff before, I was a little shocked I won’t lie, because I love you, but you’re you, so when I heard baby…?”

 

“Thanks, cowboy, I can feel myself actually breathing for the first time since 10am,” and she’s not sarcastic about it at all. Because as they sit there, they keep talking about their said future baby girl and it feels really good to know she’s not the only crazy one here who imagines things. They decided she’ll have to have Lucas’s beautiful blue eyes and Maya’s beautiful everything else (guess who came up with that one, huh?) but she’ll probably still be part cowboy (and I know you know who came up with that one). And through it all she’s very aware of how easily she can say the word all of a sudden. Love love _love_ love love _she loves him._

 

“I hope you know those kids in there are never going to want to leave your side now,” Lucas says.

 

“Well, I’ve got 22 more days of you being a teacher without me so I think I’m open for babysitting. I want like 12 copies of Noah.”

 

“Whoa, I agreed to one so far. Don’t push it.”

 

“I still have permission to put soap in your mouth.” She says with a laugh but she thinks she’d rather just have his mouth on hers, so she kisses him dizzy for all of 3 seconds before Rosie wakes up and starts crying because she needs her diaper changed. Again.

 

It was so fucking exhausting but Maya realizes then that work doesn’t have to be something you get paid to do. It’s not always a desk and papers and lesson plans and paychecks and titles. It can be running around with green paint on your fingers or force-feeding some broccoli into a 3-year-old’s mouth. It can be changing diapers and pushing swings. It can be nosy people on the street whispering about how those poor kids look so young to be stuck with 4 kids already. It can be spitting back at them. It can be forgetting bottles in restaurants and losing a kid on the way back to get it. It can be their sweet ‘love you’s before they go to sleep. These kids were a whole lot of work, and Maya realizes that one day, if she had a precious one or two of her own, she wouldn’t mind spending her day at home (I mean, come on, they’d be half Lucas anyway). She will always want to be a teacher, but you can be an art teacher and mom too.

 

The six of them all finally fall asleep, and when Lucas’s mom and Aunt Mel get home, they don’t wake the sleeping beauties for that promised house tour. They shut the lights and tiptoe around the scattered pillows and paint sets and guitar.

 

And when they wake up, there’s a batch of cookies waiting.

 

(Lucas’s mom practically runs to make a bonus batch when she hears Maya and Lucas talking about baby Ollie.)

 

///

 

She never makes it to the moon.

 

But really, that wasn’t what she needed.

 

Summer creeps by in a fast wave of happiness. A lot more laughter and smiles and ‘I love you’s than she’s ever experienced now that things are different. A good different. An unstuck kind of different.

 

In the weeks leading up to her first day as a teacher, Maya could not feel any better (or worse). There are several times she thinks she’s going to throw up but she never knows if it’s from excitement or pure terror. Lucas and Zay like to take bets on which they think it is. Lucas almost always loses.

 

By the night before her first day, she has 2 weeks of lesson plans all filled out and she’s checked them over each like 6 times like a crazy-woman and she’s packed and repacked her bag at least 4 times and she checks the computer every hour to see when the paint shipment for her classroom is coming in and she tries to memorize names of students that she hasn’t even met yet and she needs Riley to pick out a week of outfits in advance for her and a spare one to put in her closet at school just in case and she needs to breathe. Maya Hart with a real-adult job. Who knew?

 

Lucas has to pry her away from pacing in front of her phone contemplating whether or not she should just call the school now and quit or wait until she sees them in the morning and moves her to the couch. His mom is over (because she wanted to see her favorite girl on her big day) and they’re watching ‘Say Yes to the Dress’ eating Chinese Takeout, which Lucas claims is a night-before-the-first-day tradition since he started teaching. Maya would make fun of him for picking such a lame night-before tradition but her mouth is stuffed with fried rice. Maybe he’s got a point with this lame thing.

 

“Maya, the tradition only works if you smile,” Lucas says, eyeing her from the side before tossing his mom an eggroll.

 

“Leave her alone, Luke, I practically had to disown you before you agreed to go to your first day of work, you were so nervous. The wonton soup will fix it,” Lucas’s mom says and passes Maya bowl, almost having to spoon-feed it to her because Maya is still sitting in such a dazed trance of fear.

 

“I just didn’t think this would ever happen. I don’t know why none of you have stopped me yet. Who let me go on for this long?”

 

“Honey, the only reason you’re going anywhere is because of yourself, and don’t you ever forget that. We can only push you so far. Not that I really did anything, but you know what I mean.”

 

“She’s right,” Lucas agrees with his mom, though he looks like he hates agreeing with her on any matters so as to give her the satisfaction. “I don’t know how many times I can say it before you believe me, you are so brilliant, Maya, and I’m not kidding when I say I’m still receiving letters from my students from last year asking why you couldn’t be their full-time teacher and I be the one who had to leave.”

 

Maya laughs thinking about those sweet angels from last year, “I have a lot of them in my class. That’ll be good for me.”

 

“Whoo-hoo, Luke, I see a smile, we’re getting there.” Lucas’s mom cheers and high-fives him when she sees Maya start to physically glow.

 

“The wonton soup helps.”

 

“Told ya it would.”

 

“Alright, it’s on, we can talk again next commercial break,” Lucas interrupts, his eyes focused squarely on the TV screen and Maya’s eyes focused squarely on him. How is the world did she find such a dork?

 

The show introduces the new bride looking for her dream wedding gown and shows her fiancé, her bridal party, her sob story, what she’s looking for in a gown. She tries on two dresses before the commercial, both of which Maya thinks are hideous and cannot wait to share her opinions on when they discuss during the commercials.

 

“This girl is hopeless. A blush strapless ball gown with black gloves and a hat, for a wedding in 6 months, and all under her grandma’s budget. It’s not happening,” Lucas’s mom starts them off as soon as the first commercial sounds.

 

“I personally think it’s an act. No one in their right mind wants something that ridiculous for the best day of their life unless they want to be on a TV show,” Lucas continues, and the two women hum their agreement.

 

“The dresses were atrocious, I’m not even sure where to begin, but her ring? We all know grandma _ain’t_ cheap,” Maya says. “Wait shit, that reminds me,” she starts and looks down at her hand, starting to take off her friendship ring from Riley, “I can’t wear this at work. I’ll get paint all over it.”

 

“That sucks.”

 

“Yeah, I never take it off,” she struggles to pull it off, proving her point even further that it has literally become a part of her in the many years she’s worn it, “I would just hate to see it get ruined while I’m working. You know, they should make a way to wear rings so that they’re not on your finger, like around your neck, or something?”

 

“So a necklace.”

 

“Shut up, Huckleberry. I meant like, a chain you could put the ring on so you could still wear it if I can’t be on your hand.”

 

“That’s smart, Maya. Invent it and we’ll go on ‘Shark Tank’!” Lucas’s mom says, “Maybe we’ll get into Kleinfeld for your wedding ring invention. Have people trash talk us during commercial breaks.”

 

“Then I could quit teaching and be a full-time ring-necklacer.”

 

“You know, you’d still be just as nervous before your first day on that job, no avoiding it,” Lucas says.

 

“What did I say Huckleberry? Shut up and pass me the sesame chicken. The show’s back on.”

 

The bride doesn’t end up finding a gown, but she doesn’t look too upset about it. Maya falls asleep on Lucas’s shoulder during the 6th episode they watch and she doesn’t feel half as nervous as she did.

The alarm clock doesn’t go off in the morning but the smell of Lucas’s mom making pancakes does enough for Maya to hop off the couch and run into the kitchen. She doesn’t have time to be a cranky grouch like she always is in the morning. She needs all this time to be a jittery, nervous mess. By 7 they’re out the door, a cup of coffee in one of her hands and Lucas’s hand in the other, a kiss from mom and lesson plans fluttering in her bag.

 

She’s so freaking excited to be a teacher!!!

 

But she has bathroom duty first period, so all that comes to halt. Each teacher is required to do some sort of service for one period a day, whether it be in the office, hall monitor, bathroom duty, cafeteria duty, In-School Suspensions, or something like that. No one wants bathroom duty, you have to sit there and sign passes when they go in and out of the bathroom. Maya also thinks it’s a waste of her time because who goes to the bathroom first period anyway, you just got here.

 

But 10 minutes in, someone finally does, and as only the universe would have it, it’s little Miss Kelly from period one.

 

“Miss Hart!!!” she screams, running up to her to give her a big squeeze, “I have you fourth period. But before then, come visit us! We’re right down the hall.”

 

“I know, same classroom as last year. But I can’t. Important teacher stuff to do,” She holds up the red binder she was given for her shift at the bathroom, which is still completely empty and useless. They both give it a kind of lopsided glance.

 

“You’re the fun teacher.”

 

“I know, but I can’t show anyone with a name badge that, especially on the first day, or they’ll fire me. And then no more fun teacher ever.”

 

“Oh, come on, don’t you miss us?”

 

“Don’t give me those puppy dog eyes, missy!” But she does. So Maya sticks her red binder under her arm and lets Kelly drag her down the hall to Mr. Friar’s now 8th grade History classroom.

 

They all cheer upon her arrival. Her heart swells.

 

“Great, I’m so glad you’re here. Hold this, I need to run to the office.” Lucas barely blinks as he throws a page of his lesson plans at her and runs out the door.

 

“Well, hello to you too, cowboy. I’m doing great so far on my first day, thanks for asking. You’ll save me a seat at lunch? How nice of you. Shut the door on your way out, won’t you?” She says under her breath, earning a chuckle from the first row who obviously heard it. She then turns to look at the class and sees that it’s the same as last year.

 

“No way, he’s got all of you in here?” She says in shock, as she walks up and down the rows to give everyone high fives and smelly stickers she hid in one of Lucas’s drawers for him.

 

“Same exact class, period one history. Except we got a few extras.”

 

“Is that Spencer and Marley from last period?”

 

“The one and onlys.”

 

“And you better take care of that desk, Miss Marley, guard it with your life. I give Daniella permission to beat you up if you do anything to it, got that?” And the two girls in the back corner laugh when Maya hops on Marely’s desk, used to be hers, and hands out her last smelly stickers.

 

She’s about to ask the class how much of a cowboy Mr. Friar has been so far so she knows how much she’ll have to make fun of him when she gets home but someone bursts through the door.

 

“Riley?” Maya can’t believe it when the brunette makes her way inside, a busy Mr. Matthews chatting with someone who looks important just behind them.

 

“My Dad’s first day on the job and he already breaks something. Can’t let him go anywhere on his own. Farkle’s in his office now, fixing his computer, and since he’s my ride to work, here I am. I came here because I was going to ask Lucas how you were holding up since I thought if I asked you, you might puke on me, but you look pretty good!” She adds at the end with a cheery Riley smile and a hand squeeze.

 

“Thanks,” Maya says with an eye roll, but squeezes back anyway.

 

“Is this the infamous period 1? They’re so much better looking in person. Miss Maya, is that what they call you? Miss Hart? Yeah, duh! Miss Hart did some paintings of you but they don’t do you justice, especially your cute dimples,” she points to Brandon in the back and everyone laughs.

 

“Alright, well, this was fun, I think we all need to just go back to where we came from…” Maya starts but of course, it needs to happen this way, Zay bursts through the door next.

 

“Is this health class? ‘Where we came from?’ Because I thought I was visiting a fun paintin’ class.”

 

“Well doesn’t this just keep getting better and better,” Maya mumbles under her breath and Zay makes his appearance, who happens to be stopping by so he could beat Lucas in another bet on how many times Maya’s going to barf or at least say she’s going to. And Maya thinks he will, he’ll win.

 

Mr. Matthews come in next, who’s done talking to the guy that must have been very important, followed by Farkle and fresh-outta-college Joe who’s looking for a new internship in the tech department of the school. Farkle tells Maya that Joe said office life wasn’t for him, and when she sees the face Joe makes when he catches sight of her, she has a feeling she could have been a part of the reason.

 

Lucas’s mom bustles in with all the cookies you could eat, another tradition Maya must have missed hearing about because all the kids seem to know she’s coming before she even makes it to the door, and they devour the cookies in an instant.

 

Chatter fills the room and it literally could not get any more crowded in that little space if they tried. But there is one person missing.

 

Maya looks down at the lesson plans Lucas shoved at her before he made his quick and confusing exit. She’s both relieved and angry that she didn’t look at it sooner.

 

Because at the very top of the page, scribbled is Lucas’s messy handwriting with his favorite blue pen it says in the objective box: “Ask Maya to get married”.

 

And in a flurry of noise and heart palpitations, the door bursts open one last time and with shining blue eyes and messy hair and a tie that is half undone because neither of them can figure out how to do it and a little box sticking out of his pocket, Mr. Lucas Friar comes in.

 

“Now, Mr. Friar?” Brandon shouts, and when Lucas nods, her favorite square dance music comes on, and everyone in the room, all visitors included, starts to dance. Maya can feel herself shaking, she can literally feel it, she knows if she had her friendship ring on it probably would have fallen off her finger, and dammit she hasn’t even made it past period one without crying.

 

But Zay might lose this bet on whether it’s happy or sad.

 

Because there’s two people in the room who aren’t square dancing yet, they’re lost in each other’s eyes, like that split second on her first day when he asked her what her moon was and all she saw was the blue of his eyes.

 

“You don’t want it on one knee, right?”

 

“I don’t really trust public school floors, so I’ll save you the trouble.”

 

“How thoughtful.”

 

“I’ve gotta admit, the lesson plan thing was smart. I’m hanging it up on the fridge.” She laughs and wipes a tear. “And the square dance, because you wanna do the square dance with me forever. Very clever.”

“I was actually trying to distract them so I’d have a better chance of you saying yes, because I know you’d want them here but you hate pressure and attention.”

 

“You really do know me.”

 

“Inside and out, _partner.”_

“I’m going to forgive that, only if the ring is pretty.”

 

“Well, it’s no grandma of the scary black-glove-bride ring, but I’m gonna beat you to ‘Shark Tank’.”

 

She opens the box that he hands her and sees that inside there’s a ring on a small silver chain, perfect for her to wear all the time, even in art class.

 

“If I say yes, does that mean they have to start calling me Mrs. Friar?”

 

“I was thinking Mrs. Ranger Rick, but whatever you want really.” _Fuck she’s so in love._

“Mrs. Huckleberry and you’ve got a deal.”

 

“You wanna shake on it or something?”

 

“How about you put this on me,” she hands him the ring-necklace, “and then hug me so I can hide all the crying I’m about to do.”

 

“Works for me.”

 

And without even hesitating he scoops her up and spins her around, laughing and crying and moving because she’s never going to be stuck again. She knows it. She loves it.

 

Somewhere in the back, a kid (probably Brandon) shouts, “Mr. Friar, is that _you_ crying? Don’t tell me she said ‘no’! I’ve got money riding on this.”

 

“No, that’s me,” Zay says, and he blows his nose with a loud honk, “But I like the way you think with the bets. You’re going places kid.”

 

“Alright, cowboy and I are in a bit of a situation, should I go with Mrs. Ranger Rick or Mrs. Huckleberry?” Maya says, wiping another tear, and before she gets an answer, the kids stampede up to her, tackle her in a giant hug, and somewhere she hears, “So this means, she said ‘yes’?”

 

Yes. Oh sure as hell yes.

 

Everyone stuffs their faces with more cookies and Riley looks beside herself (“My best friend is all grown up!”) you’d think she got proposed to with how much she’s crying. Mr. Matthews looks like a proud dad, all giddy and heartfelt and she tries to keep Lucas at least 5 feet away from him at all times in case he decides to go protective-dad on him and beat him up or something. Farkle promises not to blow anything up at the wedding and Joe politely decline’s Maya’s offer to be the maid of honor and it’s good when he leaves because she doesn’t need to protect two people from potentially getting beat up by Matthews (maid of honor is a delicate subject, ask the Riley and Maya Life Book). Zay wins another happy/sad crying bet because he’s just so darn good and he wants to teach Maya how to dance like she doesn’t have two left feet before the first dance and also for the sake of baby Lollipop coming out with a proper left _and_ right foot (oh yeah, he knows) (because Riley dropped the bomb last week that she’s pregnant and whether it’s a boy or a girl the Riley and Maya Life Book says they have to use Purple, which they’ve changed to Violet, because if Lucas and Maya can make Lollipop work, they’re doing it) (also since Violet will definitely have 2 left feet thanks to Riley, he is doing everything in his power to make sure his niece is able to not look like a flailing chicken when she dances). She doesn’t get out of hugging Lucas’s mom for a solid 8 minutes, but she doesn’t mind it, not at all.

 

“You got everyone here. Except maybe Antonio at Friday Night Pizza Place. I expected pizzas for me to eat,” Maya says after she’s made all her rounds, overflowing with happiness.

 

“Well, it’s 8am, so pizza wasn’t happening now. But, you didn’t hear it from me when I tell you there might be a delivery for you on your lunch break.”

 

“I knew I liked you for a reason!” She shouts as she reaches up to hug him again.

 

“Yeah, whatever, Shortstack. Hey, and let me know what you think of your ceiling when you get back to your classroom. Lights out.”

 

The period is almost over, so she grabs her red binder for bathroom duty that she didn’t do (she hopes no one really had to go) and blowing a big kiss to everyone in the room, she leaves and practically skips down the empty halls, humming and twirling and smiling like and idiot. She hands her binder in at the office and stops to show Donna the nice secretary her new bling, and when everyone in the office is overjoyed for her but no one seems surprised, she wonders just how many people Lucas had in on this (where do you think he found that necklace so quickly? Secretaries know people…).

 

She’s back in her room before the first period bell even rings, giving her enough time to sprawl out on the sketchy public school floor with the lights out to catch the stars on the ceiling.

 

_She’s an art teacher._

 

If you had asked her one year ago to tell you about herself, she could name you maybe three things. Her name is Maya Hart, her best friend is Riley, and she likes to paint. But today, she can easily give you a novel, a full and compete story, with all the words, not just the pictures (though those _are_ her favorite parts).

 

Because that’s what happens when you get moving. _Things_ happen.

 

When Lucas asked her what her moon was, she thought it could only be that big thing in the sky. And no matter what way you looked at it, she was never getting there.

 

But she learned that she didn’t need to get there, she just need to move _towards_ it.

 

Step by step you make things happen: you cry, you talk to your best friend, you go to school, you start to learn, you meet someone, you meet a million and one someones, you fall in love, you eat pizza, you stay up late, you catch stars, you buy a new home, you knock on a door, you get lost, you let someone find you, you paint, you eat burnt cookies, you sing songs, you change diapers, you catch snowflakes, you write, you learn, you teach, you sit, you stand, you dance, you let it happen, you _make it happen._ That’s moving. That’s moving towards wherever you need to go.

 

The moon is an impossible thing. But _you_ are not an impossible thing.

 

It takes a lot of special someones to get you to realize it. Maya has a million special someones who got her there, a million shades of blue to paint, a million types of love to fill her up and keep her moving.

 

She’s not stuck, she’s a perfect still.

 

When her very first class files in after the bell, she whips out her purple paint brush Riley gave her on the first day of this whole thing and she’s ready, she’s ready, she’s ready.

 

One day she’ll be close enough to catch it with a lasso. The man in the moon would love to square dance with them. She knows it.

 

She’s moving towards the moon.

 


End file.
